November Seas and Bakery Bread
by 14ismyluckynumber
Summary: High school AU. It's a curious thing, being in love. Especially with my best friend. But he's smitten with a girl out to ruin my life. So what is life in Seneca Crane Memorial High with her eating his face? You know what I miss the most though? Now that he's off with the populars. Curiously, it's the smell of bakery bread. And that smell is what sent me on my journey.
1. Chapter 1

I'm already awake when my mother decides to call for me.

"I was already up!"

I hear a weary sigh.

"The Middle East peace deal brokering again?"

"No, trying to figure out the mystery of the attraction of the ocean." I holler back. If somebody heard us now, it would sound sarcastic, our conversation. But the sad thing is, she's right.

I can hear her mutter as she shuffles past my door.

"Everybody else get's a normal daughter, and I get a freakazoid who likes astrophysics at three o'clock in the morning!" she stage whispers, cracking open my door as she peeks around.

"Okay, Mummy dearest, I will skip to the makeup counter at my earliest convenience." I wink at her, pretend primly.

I hear her laugh.

"Oh, and Clove, wake up Meghan and Fleur for me? I need to prepare the crumpets." she trails off, disappearing in a vision of quilted pink dressing gown. I look down at the mess of papers in front of me with a desperate "Urgh!" and move them apart with my hand, exposing the soft sea-green knitted blanket underneath. Drifting upwards, my gaze finds the small calendar pinned to my otherwise bare walls. Thursday, June the fourteenth . Another school year full of giggles and sunshine blonde hair, and its not nearly over. I hate life. I move sluggishly, my plaid pyjama sleeves falling down from my elbows, as I grasp the doorknob and trek down the hall, the cold wooden floor shocking my obviously carpet preferring feet. It's sanded, bare wood, a pale mesh of smoky boards, slightly wonky with the grain etched onto it's slats. The walls are cream on the hallway, and I find Meghan's door the first available to me, as always.

"Meg! Up, up, up, let's go!"

I crack open the wooden door revealing the shocking pink room inside. Small fairy lights light up the room in a glow, and it feels like I'm standing in a huge genie bottle filled with cheap candy-floss perfume and barbie goes california fashion doll. Meghan's seven (eight years younger than me) and hugely into princesses, and is currently behaving like one, snoring like a very indelicate royal warthog. In fact, the only indication I have my sister is still awake/alive and under the bed is the shock of red hair poking out from under her fluffy coverlet. I also see another shade of darker, more auburn hair and a little snout jutting out from the mess of red silky hearts, which indicates Fleur has had a nightmare and crawled into the first door she saw. Of course she did, it's her first day of proper school today. Fleur is five, and less dedicated to fuchsia and magenta. Her room is a calmer colour of willow, and is painted in flowers and curlicues, etc.

I creep over, and stand very silent. I can tell their both awake now, due to the fact their breathing has sped up and Fleur is giggling quietly.

"Wake up!" I jump on top of them and relentlessly tickle the back of their necks until they have squirmed their way into my arms and we are lying spread out in a panting, ungraceful heap on the duvet.

I smile at them and leave, heading to the bathroom to shower.

Soon, I'm dressed in my dark blue whitewash jeans, my cream long sleeved top and my red hoodie the colour of old blood, and I'm doing my hair in the mirror. Trying something new, I sweep my dark hair up in a bun the way the slutty girls at school wear it, fastening it in place with a Japanese cut bone-white clip. I make a fierce face at myself, scrunching up my nose, trying to look confident and someone you wouldn't want to mess with. I just look freckly and disgruntled. I push my thick-lensed black "nerd glasses" back up my snub nose, and pull my hair down into it's usual two plaits. I look skinny, short and pale in the mirror. I have skin the colour of milk and long raven-brown hair that shines in the dim light that's faintly emitting from the red lamp next to my bed. My eyes glow the colour of the autumn sea outside, bruise purple, scant green and deep jean blue, with hints of the fall gold leaves. I am the epitome of geekiness. And I like it that way.

Remembering to grab my copy of Wilma Tenderfoot and The Frozen Hearts, and my sea-green backpack, I kick my waydownstairs.

"Clove, sweetie, it's windy out there!" thanks, Captain Obvious Mom, I would not have guessed, even though we have the ceiling-to-floor windows in our pale cream and driftwood kitchen that are showing me the sea outside smashing against the seawall, and the tiny tree in our equally small garden swaying dangerously. Our cottage is small, seeing as it's just Mom, Meghan, Fleur and me, just a kitchen, bedrooms, a tiny living room and two bathrooms, all petite, decorated in warm, cosy, ocean-ready furniture. My bedhoneys tiny, has cream walls and a bed covered in hand-knit and factory-knit pillows and all my furniture is made frodriftwood. "Take a hat, hon." I look a lot like my mom. She's short, like me, and sheheads a snub nose and velvet brown eyes the colour of dying firewood. My mother is a stunner, petite and full-lipped, classy and sweet. I'm glad to see her like this, with no bruises and cut-lips, from someone I used to call father. I'm glad he was arrested. We're all stronger, and Mom divorced his sorry ass when she had the clear head to do so.

We both have the dark hair and pale skin, but while Fleur and Meghan have her brown eyes, I have the mesh of eye colour that matches their ginger hair. She hands me a skinny knit hat the cream colour of the walls. I swipe a piece of toast off the counter, kiss her cheek and pull a face at Fleur and Meghan sitting at the breakfast table with buttery crumpet pieces over their faces, and skitter out into the blustery wind outside. I trudge along the sea-battered grey pavement, covered with cracks from which sea grass bursts, from my house, number two Siren Song way, to number twelve, where I run up the steps and knock politely. The door swings open and Peeta hobbles down the wonky steps, staggering with one hand tugging a converse on and the other clutching a navy backpack, a piece of burnt toast in his mouth.

He's an idiot.

"Morning, Peeta."

He straightens up, shoe now firmly on, and shrugs his backpack on.

"Mpghmmmwhcoce." he mumbles, crunching up the bread. I give him one of my stares.

His ash blonde hair is rumpled and his paint-stripper blue eyes are shining. He's wearing a faded t-shirt with red tips at the neck and ends of his white sleeves, and faded blue jeans. Peeta's my best friend. We've known each other practically since birth. I trust him more than anyone I know. I don't when it was precisely I fell in love with him, but maybe it was since forever. He'd never feel like that though, he's a popular jock, has a gorgeous (if a complete bitch of a) girlfriend, so I settle for friends. And that's still brilliant. He gulps down the toast.

"Morning Clove!"

I smile.

"Excited?" he asks.

"Mmm. You?"

"Yeah, I guess. No sleep last night?"

"Nope."

"Middle East peace deal or the Mystery of the Sea?"

"Mystery of the Sea." I chuckle. He knows me so well.

"Worked it out yet?"

"I think humans have a primitive, deep need to protect ad take battle, a need for that thrill of danger. The sea is one of the most powerful things and I believe we want to prove we are stronger than it. I'm not to sure though. Need to read more of my statistics."

"Jeez, Clove. You amaze me sometimes, you know that?"

"You're only saying that because you want to copy the math homework will give us today."

"You know me so well. Even though you're a smarty pants, you still up for a game of chase before we get to school?"

Before I know it, he grabs my backpack and runs off, leaving me to chase him down the streets.

Well here we are. Seneca Crane memorial high. Having successfully secured my backpack, Peeta and I joke around until bitch of the century arrives.

"Honey! Hey, Peeta baby! WE'RE over here!" Glimmer jumps up and down, the sunlight catching her perfect figure, a couple of boys getting caught off to stare at her jiggling has golden hair, streaked with bronze and white-blonde, and it cascades in perfect straightness down her tan shoulders. Her jealous green eyes shine cruelly as they rake over me. She wears tiny denim hot-pants and neck-breaking stilettos and a aquamarine vest top with a cleavage-baring neckline that clings to her curves and cuts off to show her flat as a board stomach. She puts emphasis on the we're, letting him know I'm not an acceptable person to hang around with. Peeta flashes me an apologetic smile, and shifts off to the cheerleader and jock section. I give him a small wave that fades away to nothing as Glimmer proceeds to eat his face, my fingers crumpling to a well meaning whisper. She glares at me from his shoulder as she pulls away, and plops her round ass that all the boys admire next to her friends. There is nothing I desire more than to give her a good kick up said ass, because she's a hell of a bitch who has been out to get me for no reason. Cato, Thresh, Brutus and Finnick holler and cheer to him, all dressed in cherry red jock jackets, while Glimmer, Cashmere, Johanna and Enorbia settle and gossip on the stone steps. I roll my eyes and turn away, focusing on the girls waving at me from over on the packed grass.

"Hey, Jessica!" I collapse onto the daisy strewn grass next to the red-haired madam. She squeals, and wraps her lanky arms around me in a bone crushing hug. I laugh and hug her tall frame back. Apart from Peeta, Jess is my best friend, and is the only one who knows about my, well, thing for him. She also shares my hatred for Glimmer, who came up with the nickname Foxface for her, and has called her that since Elementary. I wave at Katniss, Rue, Delly, Gale and Marvel. We are the outcasts; the geeks. There's Katniss and Gale with their obsession with archery, Rue who's young, sweet and naive, Delly who's extremely pretty and curvier than the anorexic populars, and therefore more attractive, making her a threat and Marvel, who's just... Well Marvel is just Marvel.

**School goes fast, and soon I'm sitting next to Jess at the lunch table, waiting for the rest. We got released early from Honours English Literature, partly because our teacher likes us, and partlybecause we're the onlu two in the class.**

**"Hey, Jess, Clove!" Peeta slides onto the well-worn titanium bench, slinging a casual arm around us both, an easy Peeta-like smile on his features. Just as I'm about to reply, Glimmer struts in, booty wiggling. She sashays over to us, perfect face pointed to the sky, as she surveys us all. **

**"Peeta, 're over here."**

A crumpled piece of paper soars onto my desk in Homeroom, our last hour of school. Miss Trinket has her head buried in a magazine, and doesn't seem to notice.

Urgh, I don't get our Maths! How's Jess? Tell her I said hi. You coming over tonight?

I look up to see Peeta pretend-reading a book upside down, grinning but trying to conceal it from Glimmer who's laughing and twirling her hair round his finger, leaning onto the desk to give him a "TMI" view of her cleavage.

Make it my house? My Mom's got hot chocolate + all the fixings, and I have to babysit Fleur and Meghan. They're dying to see you! Jess is good.

I roll up the note and flick it across room when Glimmer starts up a scintillating conversation about new lipgloss with an extract of tracker jacker venom to make lips plumper with Johanna.

Peeta scans my note and nods. He winks and rolls his eyes, pointing to Cato, who's sitting next to him. The blonde boy's head is resting on the wooden back of his chair as he's slumped beneath the table, his mouth is open and his tongue is lolling out as he snores. Thresh is laughing and capturing the hilarious moment on his camera phone.

"Class!" Miss Trinket yells. We all flicker to attention and Cato looks around, dazed.

"It's time to pack away. Remember. The trip to England is on Saturday. You have to arrive at Mockingjay International Airport at five am in the morning. Remember your passports."

Shit! I forgot England! Two days!


	2. A Prince,A Princess and a witch named G

**A/N! Hey everyone! I was do pleased at the mega positive results from chapter one! Thank you to my fabulous reviewers, replies are at the bottom! Sorry for typos in the last chapter, it was written on my phone… and thank you to my favouriters/followers! Please, let me know what you think about this chapter with a review :) they make my day! Oh and make sure to check out the story ****Mockingjay High****, by my friend ****Unseen Wonders****! It's super cool, and really funny! Have a look! You're totally missing out if you don't.**

Music spurts out of my stereo as I furiously chuck clothes out of my wardrobe onto my large navy suitcase that sits like a coffin in the middle of my ocean-themed room, all dark and forbidding. Paramore is yelling about ignorance and I'm singing along at full volume, picturing myself repeatedly slapping Glimmer.

"Oooooh, bad day then, I take it?" my Mom has her head around the door and her hands are like little claws on the white wood.

"You don't even want to know." I growl, remembering how Glimmer looked at me and Jess like we were dirt.

"Are you packing for Engaaaalaaaand?" she asks, stretching out the syllables in exaggerated aristocratic English.

"Yup." I'm not in the mood for accents or any fun-making, and I am fully prepared to answer her with one-word sentences.

"Well, I've saved some money for your trip, and if you have time tomorrow, maybe you and Jess could go and buy some new clothes?"

I turn and see the optimistic look that's crossed her face. She looks tired, and I have a mind to ask her how her day went. I can't believe this, we're always scrimping and saving, and we aren't well off at all. To do this for me must have cost months of saving. It's a huge gesture.

I run over and envelop her in a massive hug, and when I pull away we're both a bit teary-eyed.

"Thanks so much, Mom!"

"Think nothing of it. Now how about turning that shouting off and come downstairs to spend some time with me and the girls before I go out?"

"Sure, Mom."

I follow her downstairs, into the lounge. Fleur is sprawled over the couch and Meghan has collapsed on the sofa. I decide it may be possibly hazardous to my health to move them, so I clamber uncomfortably onto the window seat and turn my head to watch the light rain that's started to empty from the blackened clouds.

Here's the thing about me; I like the rain. Not the pointless drizzles, but the proper pour down that almost shatters the tiles on the roof. I like when the sky is full of bruise purple clouds that make it look like the night even if it's the day, and I like when lightning splits the sky like a crack in dropped china. The thunder that moans and grumbles like a whiney giant, and the wind that howls and screams like a bereaved mother.

I'm just weird, I guess.

"So, Flower Fairy Fleur, how was you tester day of proper school?" I ask, using her nickname. She likes fairies, especially when they have something to do with nature. She's been baying for a puppy like my Pickle soon, as seeing as it's her birthday in July, I think Mom's going to relent. Her nickname is all the more relevant at the minute due to her choice of outfit; spotty green and purple tights, a ruffled lavender tutu, a long-sleeved willow-coloured top, and a pair of big, violet fairy wings. She also wields a pointy fairy wand with a big shimmering star dangling at the end. I don't hate much in life (apart from Glimmer) but me and that wand are not on good terms. Last time I tickled Fleur, she stabbed me in the arm with it (the ends of the star are extremely sharp) and I still have the scar. Her red hair hangs long to her waist in rumpled fluffy ringlets.

"Weeeeell it was good, but this girl called Shine made fun of my fairy wings. She had long blonde hair that was very pretty, but she had mean eyes. I hope I'm not in a class with her when we really start in September."

She huffs, her little nose scrunching up, making her look absolutely adorable.

"Oh yeah, and she said something about you, Clove. She told me I was a loser, just like my big sister in high school. I hit her with my wand, because nobody says things about you. I hope her and her big sister turn into frogs."

Shine. _Shiiiine_. I remember where I heard that from. Shine is Glimmer's little sister. If that mini-witch picks on my little sister, I swear to God, I will not just stand by. I scoop Fleur into a hug, pulling her onto the window seat with me. She sighs happily and snuggles into me.

"How about you, Princess Meg? How was school?"

Meghan smiles and twirls over. She's wearing a very violent magenta dress, with rose-coloured tights, and a baby pink long sleeved t-shirt underneath. Meghan has a hamster called Princess, and she loves him to pieces. Her hair is wild and crazy in its long ringlets. Fleur and Meg look a lot like each other. I swear they have freckles in the same places. But this doppelgänger act is spoilt by the fact that Meghan is missing a front tooth.

"Brilliant! We did paintings of primroses and Miss Everdeen said mine was the best in the class. She hung it up and everything!"

"Well done, Pickle!" I give her an awkward one-armed hug because Fleur's still hanging onto me like a spider monkey. Meg clambers up and sits on my legs. At the word Pickle, a small but excitable beagle hurtles into the room, tongue lolloping at the ready. Pickle's my dog, and he's only one. I got him last year because of my good exam results, and I swear I love him even more than Peeta and Jess best friend wise. I named him after my favourite book character, Wilma Tenderfoot's, dog of the same name. He has a cold nose though, and it irritates me when he randomly appears in my nice comfy bed and jabs me with it.

"How was work, Mom?"

Mom works at Flip of a Coin, the jewellers shop in town. I don't like the owner, Mom's boss. Her name is Alma Coin, and she's strict, miserable and works Mom's fingers to the bone. She has a sallow face, and limp, lifeless grey hair always pulled into a severe bun. She wears dark business suits, and thick, chunky old lady heels. I think she has one of those faces that could be grandmotherly and loving, with the crinkles at the eyes from warm grins, but Alma never smiles. She keeps her mouth in a parallel line, and surveys everyone in a cold, clinical way with her evil hooded eyes. She shouts at Mom like a child, humiliates her and forces her into strictly scheduled work.

"Hmm. Alma was in a bad mood."

"Does she have any other mood?"

Mom doesn't answer, but she's trying to conceal a smile. She gets up and disappears for an hour, in which Meg and Fleur take a nap on me, along with Pickle, who has shuffled himself into a veeeeery comfortable position along my neck (it's actually very uncomfortable) and I watch a random channel, showing a movie about a huge gladiator event. It's quite boring, but soon Mom comes down in a flowery vintage dress, smelling all cinnamon-and-vanillary.

"You look lovely, Mom. Have a nice time with Miss Everdeen and the other moms." I give her a kiss on her powdery cheek.

"Thanks sweetie. I shouldn't be back later than half ten. There's soup in the fridge for you and Peeta- I presume he's coming over to devour my fridge and hot chocolate- and mac and cheese for Fleur and Meg. They need a bath and to be put to bed at quarter to nine. Thanks for looking after them, Clove, I really appreciate it." she gives me a lovely Mom smile and sweeps out the door, with me yelling at her to take a coat after her. That's the thing about Mom, she's generous and kind, but never expects a thing in return. She always seems genuinely surprised and grateful whenever anybody does anything nice for her. Peeta and Jess tell me I'm like that too.

I shake the monsters awake and we all fall off the seat onto an unceremonious heap on the floor. Pickle whines in an excited puppy manner. There's giggles all round as I pull them both up, but not Pickle, as he has four legs and is perfectly capable of pulling himself up.

"Right, Flower Fairy and Her Royal Highness, shall we have a dance?"

They squeak and squeal in happiness, which I suppose is a yes. Pickle just barks. For some reason, he's wearing smaller fairy wings that are strapped round his stomach.

"Fleur, care to explain Pickle's suddenly amazing ability to grow wings?"

"I needed an assistant." she tells me.

I shake my head and scurry over to the stereo and turn on Selena Gomez, just to be cheesy and have a good boogie.

Soon we're dancing around the living room, me shimmying and them jumping and me spinning them around.

"Who says you're not star potential?" I point to Meg and she gives a swing of the hips and strikes a pose.

"Who says you're not presidential?" I point to Fleur and she gives me a mock salute.

"Who says you can't be in movies?" they chorus and point to me. We're lost in the music, and we're singing along at the top of our voices.

"Woo! Party house!" I hear behind me, and turn to see Peeta, his blonde hair covered in a fine layer of water, cranking a terrible seventies dance move. He shakes his head, and rain sprays us. I glare at him and he laughs.

"Peeta! Come dance with us!" shouts Meg.

"Do you have to ask?"

Soon we're all spinning and giggling, and somehow I've found myself with Peeta's arms around my waist as he dips me down in a mock waltz.

"Who says you're not perfect?" he sings, his voice warbling.

I laugh.

"Who says you're not pretty?" I ask him, flicking his nose.

"Who says you're not beautiful?" he tells me, pulling me up and spinning me around. His blue eyes find me, and zombie butterflies become resurrected from my third grade crush on Gale.

"Who says you're not perfect?" he whispers, his voice hoarse.

The song ends. I turn off the stereo and the girls dive on Peeta, cuddling up to him and asking if he brought cookies from his family's bakery. He produces a bag smelling deliciously of chocolate chips, and the girls shout in triumph, before stealing them and running upstairs.

"Great. Now we don't have baked goods." I pout. He grins, and pulls another bag from the large pocket of his muddy green anorak. It's a white bag, with the words Mellark and Sons printed on it in fancy brown writing, surrounded by wheat stalks.

I open it, and find my nostrils assaulted by a delicious aroma of cinnamon.

"You got me a cinnamon twist! Peeta, you are officially the best!" I laugh, before taking a big bite.

"I already knew that, Clove. Who doesn't think this is the best?" he fake asks me, before striking a model pose, putting his hands sassily behind his head. I flick him on his ear.

"Owww!"

"Just because you're the best, doesn't mean you're too good to get hit." I mumble through a mouth of cinnamon goodness, giving him one of my stares.

He glares back at me.

"So, I presume you're staying for food? Mom's got chicken soup in the fridge."

"Chicken soup? Missus M, you rock! All is forgiven!" he hollers. I shake my head.

"It's six; I'm going to start cooking it. Coming in the kitchen?"

"Sure."

"You want a hot chocolate?"

"You know it!

I get busy making Peeta hot chocolate and myself a mint tea, before starting on cooking the food. Whilst I'm standing over the stove, heating the golden mess of macaroni and the chicken soup, Peeta leans against the table, texting.

"Glimmer?"

"Mmm. She's annoyed with me."

"Let me guess; why are you hanging out with four eyes Clove when I squeezed myself into these hot pants just for you?" putting on my best Glimmer nasal accent, I fake flip my hair from shoulder to shoulder.

"No, I was joking around earlier and apparently said something to offend her. But I do believe your previous sentence did come up in the argument."

He sighs and I roll my eyes. She does not get his humour like I do.

"So, how's your dad?" I really like Peeta's dad. He's funny and kind, and adores Meghan, Fleur and me. He's very friendly with my Mom too, and I suspect he has a crush on her. Peeta's mom... She's a different story. Her and Mr Mellark divorced a while ago now. She has a problem with alcoholism, the problem being that whiskey and wine are her best friends. Peeta has often come into school with a black eye or worse from when he used to stay with her. Now he doesn't bother.

"He's good, says you and the girls need to come over to the bakery soon. He has two cupcakes with Fleur and Meghan's names on them." he chuckles, and moves closer. "Speaking about my family, we cleaned out my Grandma's attic this weekend." Grandma Clarissa is the best. She's so funny and sweet, and always cracks jokes that you can't really class as politically correct to Peeta's dad. "We found something. Grandpa gave it to her when she was our age. Hold on…" he searches frantically through his jean pockets. "Ahh, here it is." he withdraws a black velvet box from his left pocket. The fabric lining the outside is worn. "I liked it, and I wanted to give it to you, and Grandma agreed. She doesn't need it anymore, and wants it to go to a new owner, and she couldn't think of anyone better or more deserving of it." he opens it to reveal a beautiful necklace, with a small gold "C" hanging delicately as a pendant. Two tiny spheres of sapphire hang next to the pendant, stacked, and an equally small heart swings beside them.

"Do you like it?" he looks at me nervously.

"Peeta- I can't accept this. It's stunning!"

He smiles, and takes out the necklace from the box. He comes up behind me and moves my plaits, and fastens it around my neck. His hands smell like bakery bread and apples. He pulls the ties from my hair, and I shake my head as it falls down, long to the bend of my elbow of wavy ebony.

"There." he smiles. "You look like a princess."

"One thing." I say, and pull off my glasses. He grins at me.

"Right, come on idiot, stop distracting me, I need to cook!" I tell him, pushing my glasses back onto my nose and turning back to the stove.

He shakes his head at me and laughs.

Later that night, I go to tuck Meghan and Fleur to bed. Fleur settles down sleepily, and plants a kiss on my nose, as I lower her spider-monkey body onto the bed, pulling her fluffy duvet over her tiny five-year-old body. I pass her Dipsy, the small yellow dog she sleeps with and turn on her soft green bedside lamp, so the room is bathed in a willow glow. She smiles tiredly at me, and suddenly my funny, sweet sister seems so tiny, in her yellow and purple stripy pyjamas.

"Night, sweetie." I whisper, before leaving to tuck in Meghan, shutting the door behind me, feeling all sentimental.

Meg's already turned off her overhead light and switched on the fairy lights that transform everything into a cosy, warm place to sleep. She lies in bed, red hair spread on the pillow, pink pyjamas already on.

"Night, Meg." I tell her, kissing her on the forehead.

"Clove?" she whispers.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"When we were dancing, you and Peeta looked like a prince and a princess." She tells me, and I feel the breath catch in my throat as I remember what Peeta told me earlier. "Is Peeta your prince, Clove? Are you his princess? Like in a love way. Like he saved you from a monster."

"No, honey. Glimmer's Peeta's princess."

"I don't like Glimmer, Clove."

"Me neither."

"Are you sure Peeta doesn't think you're his princess, Clove?" her little voice is tired and I know she's going to fall asleep soon.

"Yes, Meg. Night, sweetie."

As I'm walking away, I hear her little voice call out.

"He looks at you like you're his princess, Clove."

The next day, school drags on forever. It doesn't matter for the first two hours, because my seat is next to Peeta in both Science and French, and we are our usual selves, talking about everything under the sun. There's no mention of last night, but his eyes do flicker repeatedly towards the necklace. The bell rings for lunch after double maths, and we all spill out into chaos. The hallways in our school are chock-a-block, as I fight to find Jess. Finally I find her by my locker, and I wave and smile. Quickly spinning the bolt to my combination, I go to stash my backpack, when a note taped to the back of my locker catches my eye. Its stuck right next to a picture of Peeta and I playing catch. We're ten in that photo, and you can see the sunlight streaming through the trees at the park where we're playing as it dilutes to green. We both look really young. Grabbing the note, I read the hastily written scrawl, in something that looks like Tracker Jacker Spring lip-gloss, in bubble-gum summer pink. No, I'm not joking, that's really it's name.

_Go to hell. He's mine, geek face. He would never love an ugly loser like you. So back off, 'k hun? XOXO_

Guess What? Bubble-gum summer is the only shade of lip-gloss Glimmer wears.

Soon, I'm sitting at lunch, repeatedly stabbing a fork into my tuna pasta.

"Woah, what has that poor food done to you?" Marvel asks me.

I glower darkly at him.

Across the cafeteria, Glimmer has her skanky arms draped over Peeta as she seems to be having his mouth for lunch.

"Stupid bitch." I whisper.

Her slits of green eyes find mine as she finishes her tongue sandwich. She shoots me an evil grin, and stands up, before sitting back down next to scoots onto his lap, and simpers sweetly at him while Johanna and Cashmere "aww" loudly, and Brutus and Thresh seem hypnotised by her chest that rests on the table, barely covered by her baby pink tank top. The top only comes down to her belly button, and it has a tacky golden zip running through the centre. With it she wears a miniscule floaty mini-skirt. She makes me sick.

"Hey, Clove? You want to go shopping tonight? Get some clothes for England?" Jess asks, brow furrowed at Cato as he joins the jock table and turns his attention to Glimmer's breasts.

"Sure, Jess. Sounds cool."

I have to force the vomit back down my throat as Glimmer licks the rim of Peeta's mouth.

Jess and I wander aimlessly down the tiny high street of our neighbourhood in Panem, our town, being stupid and having random giggle attacks, as per usual. Today I have on my skinny navy long-sleeved top, my dark jeans, and guess what else? I'm wearing my hair down, like Peeta liked it. Jess wears a pretty red dress that cuts to her knee with black tights and strangely, bright yellow wellingtons. It's raining again so we hold the green umbrella and have puddle races until we get to the first of the two clothes shops, our favourite, Crest. It's owned by our friend Annie's mom, and it sells soft, surfy clothes. We skip in, and wave to Annie's mom. Crest has chilled out bare-wood walls, and a really nice atmosphere, plus it has clothes that really suit me. Thus begins a massive two hour try-on session, which ends up with us leaving with three bags each. Paying and waving goodbye, we stagger out onto the sidewalk, thin bag straps cutting into our arms, both of us in need of a hot beverage. We decide to go and head to Lamb and Plum, the diner that not only sells amazing stew, but the best beverages and pies/desserts ever. To do so we have to pass Nightlock, the other clothes shop. The sun has fallen down, and the sky is dipped in twilight, a swathe of lavender and pale pink like spilt strawberry ice cream and grape juice. The streetlights have yet to be turned on, so the cobbles are slick and shiny become basked in the early evening light.

"Do you mind if we stop in Nightlock? It's my sister's birthday while we're away, and I want to get her something trendy." Jess asks. I nod. Jess' sister is eighteen, and really pretty and popular. She looks a lot like Jess, but with blonde hair.

Unlike Crest, no bell rings when we enter. The outside wood is painted a dark smoky brown, and inside, a huge chunky bass line shocks the air, and the store is dark with a few spots of mauve light. I can smell a sickly, musty fragrance as we walk around, grimacing at emerald green skirts made of sequins that reach your upper thigh and go no further, slutty black boob tube dresses with zips down the middle and bright hexagonal print bikinis meant to go with tiny white hot pants. Glimmer shops here, as you can imagine. Speaking of Glimmer, I'm sure I can hear her sort of evil witchy laugh as we stumble blindly around. I can practically see her in all of these ensembles. We find a pretty gold dress that's not too skanky and pay the pretty dark-haired, dark-eyed cashier and rushing out of the shop and free into the cool night air.

We head over to the diner, and grab a seat in the warm inside, the bright plastic welcoming. The Lamb and Plum is sweet, a proper '60s diner, with electric blue seats and jukeboxes. They've even got a cherry red Cadillac which you can sit and have your photo taken. We're talking about tomorrow when the door clashes open and in struts Glimmer, Johanna, Enorbia, Cato, Peeta and Finnick. They crash into a big booth, and Glimmer immediately swooshes herself over Peeta. He shoots me a friendly look. Glimmer notices this and climbs onto his lap before shoving her tongue into his lips in full view of everyone. I mime gagging and Finnick sees and blocks a laugh. I smile at him and he winks at me before rolling his eyes.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who caught me gagging, as Glimmer storms up to our table.

"Do you mind? Just because you're a frigid bitch doesn't mean everyone is." she hisses, loudly enough to be heard by their group. She has her face right up close to mine. Her eyes are thickly outlined in black gloop, and her lip-gloss shines greasily in the light. Her teeth and small and snarky, now their up close to my face. The smile walks off Finnick and Peeta's faces.

"Hey, Glim. Come on now, don't say that to Clove." Peeta shouts, scrambling up, trying to reach us.

I don't know why I said it. The old me would just hang her head and look away, pretend not to be upset. But something just snapped.

"Just because you are a stupid whore that picks on everyone just because you can, doesn't mean everyone is." I spit out, anger in my eyes. "Come on, Jess. Let's go." I turn around and storm out, but not before I see the gobsmacked look on Glimmer's face at being talked back to.

**So, replies to reviews:**

**Kjane2000: thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter! Hehe, I liked the lip-gloss too!x**

**UnseenWonders: thank you! Hehe, do you know the hairstyle I'm talking about? ;)x**

**Okay, bye everyone! Let me know what you think, with a review! Oh, and by the way, the song is Who Says by Selena Gomez!x**


	3. He needs you

A/N Hi everyone! I was super pleased with the amount of you that followed and favourite, and my fabulous reviewers (replies are at the bottom) remember, I love to know what you think of the story so far, so always tell me what you think about it! If it's not too much trouble, could I maybe get ten reviews before my next update? I would be so grateful!

Luckily, Jess' house is only five minutes away down one of the suburban side-streets, so once I've convinced her I'll be fine, and I can walk home by myself, I hurry away. Even though the sky has darkened to a medium purple, and the stars are beginning to show themselves, when I check my watch, it's only seven. I walk quickly down the cobbles, taking a shortcut that is ultimately longer (I know, oxymoron) through the cosy alleyways ringed with sugar coloured houses, tall and thin, their windows and doors ringed with white. I know Cato, Glimmer and Enorbia live around here, maybe Brutus and Johanna as well, but I'm not sure. Roses climb the frosted walls, whose steps are glistening with slick rainwater, dew on perfect marble. I know the houses around here cost an awful amount of money, as you can tell from the pretty sculpted trees in the gorgeously manicured front gardens, from the pretentious iron fence posts that curl upwards in a state of guarding. I feel scruffy surrounded by the pastel blues, the soft apricots and the dusty rose fronts of the houses. Tears sting unshed in my eyes as I storm past, my black hair all of a flutter with the ocean wind, as I realise what I've done. Glimmer will now make my life ten times harder, there is absolutely no doubt about that, and I've hurt Peeta as well. I saw it in his eyes as I swept out; saw that I disappointed him by talking smack to his girlfriend. She won't let him speak or see me any more, and I'm sure he won't want to talk to me anyway. She's won, Glimmer. She's won the whole freaking baseball game. And it's my fault she scored that home run.

Ducking into a smaller, more cottage-y avenue, I collapse onto the side of the pavement, near a small stone stoop, and thus the floodgates open. I hide my head in my hands and try to distract myself at the magnified lines now close to my irises, the soft pink glow that fills my vision with light. All it does is make colours I have no name for burst at the corners of my sight, and the salty water slides down my cheeks, stained with disgust and bitter regret. It drops into my hands, so my vision is filled with the crystalline visages of what I've done. Over and over as they fill my head. I wish I'd just shut up, tucked in what flew out.

Stupid, stupid Clove.

"Clove?" I hear a voice ask, sweet and soft, the type of voice that reminds you of butter beans and scones, rosewater icing and talcum. I lift my head just slightly, peering out to try and see the person.

"It's me, Grandma Clarissa. Now, move your butt and come talk to me, honey, because my hips won't let me bend to come and sit like that." My eyes widen as I look up to see Grandma Clariss'. She has the sort of face that makes you think of commercials where there's that old woman who bakes apple pies and smiles at children, even if they have really annoying voices. She also kind of reminds me of Judi Dench, just in the things she says and the way she pulls out her voice to exaggerate everything. Today she's wearing a knit white cardigan, some navy flannel pants, and a smile.

"Come on sweetie, you can come have a cup of tea at my house. Least till it quietens with the dang rain. Up, up, up, no use moping." I follow her as she leads me to her cosy cottage. I can't believe I didn't realise it was her street. Grandma C's cottage is sweet, grey and cobbled on the outside, with latticed windows and one floor. Peeta's Grandpa died a few years back, and I have never seen anybody more in love than those two. She was hard hit by it for a long time, and I know she still isn't over it. Basil Mellark was a good, good man. She tells me to sit in a pink cotton armchair while she busies herself making tea. Almost everything in Grandma C's house in knitted or embroidered, but in bright modern patterns and colours, like lime green or turquoise, and not in your typical old lady house.

"I see he gave you the necklace." Her warm voice snaps me out of my daze and I look up to see her on the cocoa brown armchair opposite to me.

"It's beautiful."

"Basil gave that to me. We were only your age." She smiles fondly, softly. For a moment we are silent, an old lady and a teenage girl, sitting quietly, wondering why things are the way they are.

"You and Peeta remind me of us. Basil and I. Shall I tell you how… how he gave it to me?" I nod, intrigued as to how a geeky idiot and a kind popular relate to Basil and Clarissa.

"We were friends, from a very young age. Lived close, were close. He was sweet, Basil, wanted to be a doctor. I laughed, and we played, trying to forget. It was different times then, kids couldn't have dreams, especially not my Basil. He wasn't well off, far from it. His family was… poor. Seven children, father a miner, mother a seamstress, but she didn't get any clients. I, on the other hand, couldn't have been more different. My father was a business man, a politician, my mother a socialite. I was their only child. We lived in a house like those a few streets down; the ones that look like sherbet. You would never have guessed that two minutes away, Basil and his six brothers and sisters lived in a squalid shack, surviving on one meal a day. But although they were poor, Basil's family were the siblings and parents I never had. My mother was cold; disinterested in my wellbeing as long as the maid could tend to me, and my father was a mean, mean man. I spent more time in Basil's place than my own. When we were sixteen, Basil got a job in the pharmacy; stacking shelves, while I didn't have to work. I had grown up pretty; my hair long and blonde, my eyes sparkling green, flushed cheeks, pink lips and the naïvetés look at the world you had ever known. I took up with some idiot, a meaty hunk of jock with brown eyes and good looks but nothing happening upstairs. Basil always said, Cissy, you can't trust him. Basil was smart, got good grades, tried hard. He had a future, and his family were proud of him. We began to draw away, him always trying hard to show me the side to the jock I couldn't see, me always telling him he was wrong. I didn't know Basil had feelings for me; how could I have guessed? One night, the jock asked me for something… something I couldn't give him, didn't want to give him. He tried to force me into something. Of course, I couldn't protect myself from someone who looked like he ate concrete as a breakfast cereal, and would have been hit until I relinquished. But suddenly, as his fist was raised, a tap came to his shoulder. Now you should have seen Basil; tall, but he couldn't hurt a fly. That was just his nature. Red sparky hair, blue eyes, wicked smile. He tapped that jock and slammed him with a blow to the jaw. Knocked right out. He took my hand, and gave me that necklace. I knew it must of cost a years wage. So I realised... And then I kissed him. And the rest, as they say, is history." i smile and she smiles and again we are quiet, just contemplating.

"Grandma, it's Peeta, can I borrow an umbrella? It's raining out there." And it truly is the blonde boy. He smiles at me.

"Hey, Clove. Why are you with my grandma?" he doesn't seem to think anything of earlier.

"We've been reminiscing, darling! The umbrella should be by the hatstand."

"C'mon, Clove. I'll walk you home." we waved goodbye to Grandma Clarissa, and headed outside. It was now quarter to eight, and the streetlights were on, creating a beautiful glow on Peeta's features. He's dancing and singing at the top of his voice, splashing through deep welded puddles.

He's an idiot.

"Clove?" he's finished messing around now, and he's holding the umbrella tight over both of us. His voice is a confused almost whisper.

"Yes, Peeta?"

His eyes gleam at me, and his fingers slowly reach up and stroke my cheek gently.

"You look pretty in the moonlight." he tells me softly, and I can feel my heart hammering a song in my ribcage.

We walk home in silence.

"Honey, I'm so sorry!" Mom's face is worried. England's just been cancelled. Apparently storms and flood warnings have rocked the nation, and no planes are flying. We are expecting a refund. Apparently, we're expecting a freak snow storm as well. Miss Trinket just called.

"It's fine, don't worry."

"I have something for you." she roots around in her leather handbag, and pulls out a small, cardboard, green box. "Contact lenses!"

"No way! Oh my god! No way! Contact lenses?"

I can not comprehend this. I slowly touch my mirror. My hair falls perfectly. My eyes shine as they never did with my glasses. I am wearing faded grey sweats and a long-sleeved navy top, so normal, non-exceptional clothes, yet I look more beautiful than I ever have before.

My phone buzzes loudly, a light blue glow lighting up at the corners.

9:10Peeta is my life :)

She's here. Clove, I need you now.

Peeta x

Before you ask, Peeta wrote his contact name. But that doesn't matter. He needs me. I leg it out of my room, tearing down the stars and out through the door. The wind howls at me, whipping my hair as my bare feet hit the frozen, rain slicked pavement. The black sky is overwhelming, lit only by occasional lightning flashes that illuminate my face. I pound along the ground, trying to make my feet move to number twelve against the rain slicked floor.

"Peeta?" I yell, my voice thrown and distorted by the gale. Goddamn it, why won't my feet work!

"Here she is, Marie, straight out of the drinks bottle!"

"Oh ssshhhut it, you old bashtard! Your the reashon for my problemssh!"

"Oh that's right, it's all my fault! As always! Go drown your sorrows in a liquor bottle!"

"I hate you!"

"Why didn't you see Peeta then? If you always want to prove me wrong! You haven't bothered to see him in years!"

"Sshorry Peeta darling it'shh jussht Mommy'shh got a lot on right now- anyway, you never make the damn effort isshn't that right? I hate you! You are worthless!" in the light spilling from Peeta's doorway, I see Marie moving towards him, her hand raised, to hit him.

"No!" I cry.

"Clove!" Peeta runs out to me, and I hug him tightly. He clings to me, his arms around my waist.

"Come with me. Please, Peeta!" I scream, trying to get him to hear me over the hail.

"Thank you, Clove!" Peeta's dad yells, sincerity in his eyes. "I don't want him to see this. Please!"

"Clove! Take him home! He can stay with us!" behind us, Mom has followed me out into the street.

"Thank you, Blye! Please, please take him!"

"Come on, Peeta!" I peel him off me, and but he doesn't want to let go, so he grabs my hand and I pull him through the street towards our house. My Mom darts in front of us. I take him to my room while she makes him a bed in the living room.

We are silent.

He still holds my hand.

"Clove?"

I nod.

"You look beautiful. You're beautiful." I look at him.

"I need you." he leans forward gently, and kisses me softly on my cheek.

fabina-romione-rebel-lover thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter.

Kjane2000 thank you so much for reviewing twice! You made my day! Please tell me what you think of this!

So guys, ten reviews if that's okay? Thank you!xx


	4. Early blackberries

**Hey everyone! I can't believe you all; you are the coolest people ever! I didn't expect to get reviews so fast I'd be updating today! YOU ROCK! Okay, READ THIS ALL OF YOU, BECAUSE IT IS IMPORTANT! DO NOT SKIP THIS! If you want to see what Clove in this story looks like, search up the video Never Fade by the lovely and talented Gabrielle Aplin. Clove looks like her in my imagination. As always, replies to my reviewers at the bottom! Can I have fifteen reviews this time? Pleeeease? Okay and this is written in Peeta's POV. **

The rain hammers on the tiles of the roof. Moonlight is sparse through the window, and I'm lying here. The sea pounds against the wall outside, churning with vein-blue waves crested with cream. My skin feels ice cold, but I don't retrieve the blanket on the floor. Upstairs, her breath is soft, her hair lying around her like ink as she dreams. Her eyes shut; the soft skin crinkling slightly as the thunder shakes the wooden beams of the house. Her gentle smile is at rest, while the rest of her moves gracefully; glides, not twitches, as she sleeps.

I'm thinking of her.

My throat chokes, different to anything I've ever felt. Glimmer is mine, but it feels like I belong to someone else. Her cheek so soft as my fingers traced it, passing pale, unmarred skin. Her eyes gleaming in a way I don't think I've noticed before. They were the colour of the November Sea. Dangerous and, like she believes, holding an intense beauty. Perfect emerald (cliché, I know) is nothing compared to hers, and I know every time I stare into Glimmer's green jewel centres of sight, it will disappoint me. My cobalt blue has nothing when I look at them. Those eyes the colour of pale, washed-out, surf tipped blue, swirls of green that won't match the colour of anything on land, flecked with hazel kisses and something else that I don't know.

I don't know why I'm feeling like this.

My chest stings, like my ribs want to break through the surface. My hair hits me against my forehead like brambles against my face, and my cheeks feel gaunt. Something has been set free.

I stare at the grey sky, streaked with hesitant sun beams, white like driftwood. Pale, tired and bleached. Apparently, it's a brief respite, and tonight, another storm will find fascination in the sky.

"Hey," she says, her light frame sliding onto a chair next to me. She wears a simple, black long-sleeved top, and a huge raggedy cream cardigan, along with dark jeans. Her fringe falls, almost covering her eyebrows, and her hair is straight, dainty along her slim bones. I look at her and see the abandoned princess in a story long-forgotten. A blonde imposter taking her place, dancing with the prince she knows loves the raven-haired girl, locked in a tower, but still she moves, sunshine curls bouncing along velvet-clad shoulders, as she drags a pink fingernail under his chin, ensnaring his sentences for a night, as he forgets those wild ocean eyes slowly, falling for the imposter's spell. She sits alone in her dark prison, eyes searching the coal night, hoping for help, somewhere she can release the beast inside her, let everything she's kept in fly out.

What am I thinking? I don't reckon other jocks speak or think like this.

"I know what we can do today." I tell her. She looks intrigued. "Let's have a Clove/Peeta day. Like we used to have. Just us." I throw my phone onto the smooth wooden grain of her kitchen table. "And NO Glimmer." She laughs, and nods, silky smooth lo- woaaah now, Peeta, you are not going to use the word locks. Well, at least not to describe hair. You may be a little confused, but no way is this the Middle Ages. Get a hold of yourself, boy.

"I'll make a picnic. Hold on, I'll get some stuff ready. Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Let's just drive and see where we end up." I shrug.

"Excellent plan. Spontaneity is always the best." She huffs, her back to me as she prepares… well whatever it is that she's preparing. And although she's my best friend, I slightly enjoy the view of her backside as she moves.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH ME?!

"Says the one who's making sandwiches." I snort. I can practically _feel_ her rolling her eyes at me.

I hear chaos erupt in the living room.  
"Peeta. Check on Fleur and Meghan, will you please?" I hold my hands up in a kind of "Do you want me to die this young?" way. I realise she can't see me, so I ask her the question instead of… well gesturing it.

"You're not young; you're sixteen. I'M the young one, I'm fifteen."

"You're sixteen in twelve days." I tell her. Clove's birthday is on the twenty eighth of June. She just ignores me, so I grudgingly go and check on thing one and thing two.

All hell is breaking loose in the lounge.

"MEG! STOP BEING RUBBISH, AND GO AND GET ME THE FAIRY DUST AND MY SPELL BOOK!" Fleur, appearing to be brandishing a fairy wand at Meghan, yells. Meg is covered in glittery pink powder, and looks distinctly peeved. Pickle is wearing large wings on his back, and is looking despairingly at the girls; one of those pitiful dog-people looks on his beagle-ish features.

"What's going on here?" I ask cautiously.

"HOW IS HE EVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO FLY IF I DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT SPELL OR MY FAIRY DUST, MEGHAN?! ANSWER ME THAT!" Fleur shouts, apparently ignoring me.

"Fleur told me to be her assistant to help Pickle fly, and I said no, but she told me she'd steal my fairy lights and turn them into bees if I didn't. Now, she tipped one bottle of fairy dust all over me, and said she'd change me into a frog, because I was a useless assistant, and then she said she'd pour out all of my special Barbie fashion doll paint." Meg tells me, kicking at the leg of an armchair disconsolately. Frowns all round.

"Right. This is silly. Fleur, apologize, now. And Meghan, if she tries to do any of that, come tell me. Or Clove. I don't mind who. And Pickle wouldn't like to fly, would you boy? So leave him alone. Okay. Now why don't you go and make your OTHER sister grow an extra nose?" I fake whisper that last part, and they dissolve into a fit of snottery giggles.

"I heard that! If you girls make me grow any extra body parts, there will be no fizzy rainbow unicorn sweets for you!"

They hush up immediately.

"What have the munchkins been up to?" Questions Clove's Mom, making an appearance in the lounge. I like Clove's Mom, Blye, she's cool. She looks a lot like Clove, but she hasn't got Clove's eyes. Her Mom's eyes are brown, like Fleur's and Meg's.

"Nothing Mom, Peeta has got it under control!"

The raven haired madam appears a few moments later, struggling under the weight of a huge picnic basket. I take it from her, and she grins up at me gratefully.

Anything for that _smile_.

"Mom, Peeta and I are going out. Enjoy the sunshine while we can and all that. You don't need us, do you? We can cancel and look after the little Flurries over here, if you want to go out." She taps Fleur and Meghan's noses, and they almost purr up at her, feeling the love in her hand.

"No, Sweetie, you go!" she hurries us out the door. "Have fun!"

We meander down the street slowly, towards my house. My hulking mess of a rust-red Chevrolet truck hides in our garage, and I coax her out with my keys, elbow grease and a reverse pedal. Clove climbs in and onto the faded seats, ripped with age and Pickle and Cooper, our dogs. The radio is on, and she sings along, her voice sweet as it carries like birdsong thanks to the air-con. We drive through and out of our neighbourhood, cruising over town barrier lines and into a country road that will take us eventually to the next village, but we won't end up there. Although it is June, the leaves have faded to russet, gold and auburn, peppered with the occasional green. The dying sun, fatally wounded by the encroaching rain that will haunt us tonight, glows bronze as it cuts through the sky and my windshield, lighting her hair and eyes with it's aging beam. I smile at her, and she laughs up at me, and her eyes are so, so alive. The freckles that I love, the cheeks that flush red with a moving smile that carries its 3D sound up to my ears. In the late light and the deep red of the trees, as we move along the quiet road, I see her. Her for real, what she actually is.

And she's beautiful.

She turns up the music as a new song comes on. I remember it, and lose myself in her voice as it ensnares my senses. I don't look at her again, because I know if I do, I won't be able to look away, and I need to focus on the road.

"Well we'll kiss, for that's how it begins. And we'll embrace, just to warm our skins. I'll think of her and you'll think of him and we'll talk to keep the silence from our ears, and we'll laugh because we're so close to tears." She sings, her voice light and rustic, the music hating me and loving me at the same time.

It's a curious feeling.

She smiles at me from the green grass that she dances in, the blades reaching past her knees. I lie there, and she waves, the sun dancing in her eyes as she sways, the music from the old portable radio with us fuelling her. For a moment, this feels like we're in love. The leaves fall onto us, and she laughs, high and happy. I close my eyes, letting the beams sink in through my eyelids, lighting up the colours that dance in the blackness of the un-seeing sight.

"Peeta." She calls, and my bones ache with something that I don't know when she says my name, like she needs me, needs me a lot. I open my eyes and stand up, finding my way over to her, as she stoops over something. Her pale, slender fingers push a strand of thorn-coloured hair behind her ear as the other hand picks at something.

"Blackberries." She whispers, like it's a miracle. "They're ripe and everything." Her thick-knitted sleeves are pulled down, over the lower half of her palm. I help her as she takes handfuls of the dark, sweet fruit. She lays them down softly on the pale blue picnic blanket, and they leak slightly, their mauve juice staining the soft cashmere. I smile at her, and she grins at me, her teeth sparkling. I pull a face, and chase her through the wild grass and wheat. The sun is beginning to set, a deep orange glow that colours everything in softer shades of tangerine and peach. Her face is stained with the colours of summer fruit from the light. I hug her round the waist from the back when I catch her, and she laughs as my arm tightens around her stomach, and she bends slightly with giggles, her eyes closing, and her nose scrunching up, as she pushes the same strand of bramble-coloured hair back again behind her earlobe. I spin her round and we waltz jokingly around the field. We both grin and laugh and smile more than we both have ever. When I pull her close to me in the dance, I can feel her heart flutter against my chest. I pick her a pink flower from the blackberry bush, and tuck it in her hair. She smiles at me, and I look deep into her eyes. She leans in ever so slightly, and I follow her lead. Our noses are almost touching, when she pulls away and runs away, laughing wildly as I chase her. When I find her, I tickle her mercilessly. Her skin is warm in my large, scarred hands, and I hold her close as she finds her breath. Our faces are close together, and I can make constellations out of her freckles.

It's silent now, apart from the song on the radio near us. We're both looking at each other.

"Peeta," she whispers, and the gasp chokes my throat. "Can I tell you a secret?"

I nod, because I don't trust my self to speak.

"I've never kissed anyone before." Is her answer. Again we are silent, and our noses touch. My arm finds her waist, as she looks down, embarrassed. My other hand moves upward, and finds her chin. I slowly tilt it up, until our lips meet, triggering wildfire to course through my veins. The sun smiles at us, together in a field of grass and wheat.

We don't speak on the way home. She looks out of the window; her eyes don't find me again. I, on the other hand, can not stop my gaze stealing glimpses at her. I know I have to end it with Glimmer. It will never be the same, as it was with Clove. I'm fed up of mini-skirts and bitchiness. Plumping lip-gloss and ankle boots. I need chunky cardigans and long un-mascaraed lashes. I need blackberries and sunset wheat grass.

I need Clove.

When the first raindrops fall onto the windshield, I see her eyes find my face.

"Don't break up with Glimmer." She tells me, her voice quiet.

"Clove, I don't want to be with her. I want to be with you. I lov-"

"Don't say it." She begs. "You love Glimmer. I want you to be with her. You need her. She needs you."

I don't say anything else, because out of the corner of my eye, I see tears fall down her cheeks.

"I can't be with you," she whispers "until you need me."

The next night, as the wind screams and shrieks at me, I'm with Cato, Glimmer, Enobaria, Finnick and Johanna, at the movie theatre. Although Cato is messing around with popcorn and Johanna is flirting with Finnick, I'm not there. I'm in a field, dancing with Clove and her too long sleeves. I'm bathed in peach light, as she finds ripe blackberries too early in the year, laughing at her awe-struck face. I'm with her.

"Peeta babe? Wake up!" Glimmer shrieks, waving her perfect hand in front of my face. Her voice is too sugary and high-pitched. Her hand is too perfect. I want Clove's warm tone. I want her scarred, small hand with the slender fingers.

"Yes, Glim?" I sigh, trying to contain everything. Don't say a word, Peeta. Clove doesn't want you.

"You know what'll cheer you up?" she purrs rhetorically, a fuchsia talon stroking my chin. I am reminded all too familiarly of a story long forgotten. A story of a blonde imposter, ensnaring a prince's senses for a night, while his princess lies in a locked tower, abandoned and alone.

She clambers onto my lap, and crushes her lips onto mine.

Lyrics float into my mind. The song from yesterday dances into my thoughts.

Because you don't taste like you should.

She doesn't. Glimmer tastes like tequila and manufactured bubble-gum.

I need peppermint and early berries. Cinnamon and the ocean.

And you don't fit in my arms like she would.

I need soft arms, and a body that fits mine like a puzzle piece that we've found the missing piece too. I don't want sharp angles and Barbie plastic.

I want Clove.

**So what do we think? Please let me know! **

**Kjane2000: You are now officially one of my favourite people! Reviewing three times?! YOU ABSOLUTELY ROCK! And thank you so much! I kind of get lost in writing so :) I really like Clove and Peeta, and I thought a story like this would be really nice! Again, thank you so much!**

**SnowGemsxo: Don't worry! I can see how you would make that mistake! Don't worry about the i-pod thing either, I always read fanfictions on my iPhone! I hope you enjoyed it!**

**CatoAndCloveMeantToBe: Thank you! I really hope you are enjoying it, and like the new update! Please let me know what you think about it!**

**UnseenWonders: I don't want your llama, Leah ;) **

**Fabina-romione-rebel-lover Thank you so much for reviewing twice! I hope you like this new chapter! I tried really hard to make it seem like Peeta would think! Please let me know what you think!**

**Guest: Here's the fourth chapter! Please let me know what you think! And thank you so much, I'm really pleased you think it's good!**

**So fifteen reviews okay guys? And the song is The Last Unicorn, by passenger. It's brilliant; I sincerely recommend listening to it! Right, until next time everyone!xx**


	5. Realisation

**Wow! I really did not expect you all to review THAT fast! By rights, I should've written this YESTERDAY, but I needed a break, so now we're on 17 reviews! I forgot to tell you what Peeta looks like! Look up the video You Belong With Me, by Taylor Swift, and he's the guy in that. That song inspired this fanfic, by the way! Replies are at the bottom, as always! I think I should give you guys a challenge. Can we have 25 reviews by next time? I know, TWENTY FIVE! We've hit the mother-load! Again, written in Peeta's perspective!**

"Sorry. I have to go." I manage to spit out. Glimmer is writhing all over me like a snake, and I don't want to see this movie. I need to go home, think this through.

"Honey, so soon?" she purrs, in what she thinks is a sexy way, but it just makes me cringe.

"Yeah. I've got to go… help my Dad do something." I stumble over the words. I've never been a great liar. Clove always snorts at me if I try to lie to her.

_Damn! Get out of my head!_

"Really, Bro'? Helping your dad? You're such a goody-goody." Brutus, who's just arrived, laughs. His black hair is damp, and he shakes it, Glimmer and Johanna squealing as the water droplets splatter their "perfect" skin. That's a lie. Glimmer's skin is rough and dry from years of torture of perfume and makeup, and Johanna's thick layer of foundation barely cover her acne, which is also a result from perfume and makeup. Not like Clove's. Soft, pale and natural. Not dip-dyed in Dorito orange. She doesn't wear makeup, doesn't need perfume.

"Yeah, that's me. Goody-goody!" I smile nervously, trying not to give away that I really, really want to leave.

"I'll come with you, Peeta. My mom needs me home by nine, may as well go early." Finnick gives me a sad smile at the last part of the sentence. Finnick's dad, he left when Finn was just a baby. He's very protective of his mom, would go to the end of the earth to please her. I think I'm the only one that knows that.

"What is UP with you and your mom, Finnick?!" Cato grunts, confirming my suspicions that I'm the only person Finn's told. Cato's laughing, giving us all a generous view of his French fries. "Mind, she's pretty fit. I'd do that." Brutus, Glimmer, Enobaria and Johanna chortle at him. I feel my hands clench. Cato's a bastard sometimes. If he talked about my mom like that- oh yeah. Sometimes it's hard to remember your mother's an abusive alcoholic. Finnick's nostrils flare and I know he's going to knock Cato's lights out, so I put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Finn, let's go. Bye, guys." I wave at them quickly, and practically drag Finnick out, his eyes still burning at Cato's douchebag remark. We leave them with Glimmer grilling Brutus about Thresh's whereabouts. We walk home in silence, Finnick pulling his collar up against the rain. I didn't bring a jacket, so I'm just wearing a t-shirt. It's a light drizzle, the silver slivers of water shining against the deep blue of the storm-torn sky.

"So," Finnick says, breaking the miserable quiet-his voice makes me jump. "Care to explain why you disappeared for hours earlier, and came back in a state of perpetual confusion/realisation?"

Damn. I didn't think anyone noticed. What if Glimmer noticed? I hope he can't see the guilty blush that's crept onto my face; I hope it's disguised by the night shadows.

"Don't worry; I think I'm the only one who wondered." He eases my worry. "I don't think the rest are smart enough to put two and two together." He mutters, his voice low on that last part. It coaxes a smile out of me, but I still don't answer him.

"It's her, isn't it?" His voice dips, so it's barely noticeable over the slight noise of the rain hitting the weary pavement. "It's Clove." I stop in shock, and turn to face him.

"Well, that told me everything I needed to know." He chuckles. "You've finally noticed, then."

"Not-noticed what?" I manage to choke out, my voice wavering.

"That she's completely head-over-heels in love with you. And that you feel the same way."

"How the hell do you know that she's in love with me?" I ask him, ignoring the last part, because I think that bit's true.

"Peeta, come on." He sighs at me. "Everyone can see it, just by the way she LOOKS at you. Even Glimmer noticed. Why do you think she's always so annoyed when you hang out with her? It's because she's worried that she's got competition. God, Glimmer even put a note in Clove's locker telling her to go to hell. Why do you think she deliberately shouted at Clove in the diner?" I wince when he mentions that. Glimmer wasn't _too _happy when I had a go at her afterwards, sticking up for Clove. She also wasn't pleased when I left after Clove, trying to find her before she did something stupid. "Also, not denying the last part of my sentence. Well played, Peeta, well played." He laughs.

God, does he notice everything?

"You're wrong about her in love with me, Finn." I tell him. "She begged me not to break up with Glimmer."

"What did she say after that?"

"I couldn't be with her until I needed her. I already freaking need her. I don't know what else she wants me to do. I don't know how to prove that I do, anymore than telling her, but something tells me she's not going to believe me."

"You let her go, then, I presume."

I say nothing, confirming his not-quite-a-question.

"Mmm. You're not alone, in that unrequited love thing, anyway, Peeta. I think I may be in love with a girl who doesn't love me back either. And no, it is not Johanna."

I look at him, eyebrow raised. Johanna frequently flirts with him, but I kind of realised it wouldn't be her; Finnick never responds to her advances. Woah. I just though of something. It can NOT be who is running through my head right now. Can it?

"Is it Clove?" I ask him, my eyes wide. He bursts out laughing, hits me on the arm.

"You know Clove's my friend, nothing more!" He smiles at me, shaking his head and rolling his eyes up into his skull.

"You want to tell me who it is?"

"Not really."

"That's that, then."

So a day turns into two which turns into five, and it's now a week since I've seen her. Glimpses in the hallway, a glance over the crowded lunchroom. It's killing me, that she's so close, and I can't go over and talk to her.

Not like this.

"SOOOO, Enobaria," Glimmer enunciates, sitting next to me. She's given up trying to crawl onto my lap. I squirmed and wriggled until she slid off, giving me a dirty look. "Who's taking you to the prom?"

God, I forgot prom is tonight. I guess I'm going to have to take Glimmer.

"I don't know, Glim! I DO like this one guy…" I sigh at how obvious they're being. I push my hand up my head in annoyance, catching Finnick desperately trying to contain his laughter, resorting to shoving Oreo cookies into his mouth, five in one go.

"Who is that, Enobaria?! WHO does ENOBARIA LIKE, I wonder!" Glimmer's tone is urgent, and she is glaring frequently at Brutus, who is seemingly oblivious.

"WELL, Glimmer, the boy I LIKE has black hair, brown eyes and his name begins with a B."

"HIS NAME BEGINS WITH A B, you say?!" Glimmer is practically shouting over the table. Brutus clicks in, his eyes wide and his mouth in an "o" of realisation. Finnick has given up the cookie technique, and literally has shoved his head under the table. Its surface vibrates with laughter.

"Hey, Enobaria, want to go to prom with me?" he asks, a smug smile on his dumb features.

"Oh, Brutus, I'd love to!" She grins, tossing her obviously dyed, bleach blonde hair over her shoulder. For some reason, Glimmer, Johanna and Enobaria are a spectacular tangerine. You can actually see the white rings around their eyes where the goggles went in the tanning salon. They're idiots sometimes.

"Wo-ho-ho! Look at Spec 'n' plaits! She looks fi-i-i-ine!" Cato exclaims, surprise on his stupid face. I turn, to see Clove. Her hair is down, how I like it, and for the first time since the day we were together, she's wearing her contacts. She wears her normal skinny jeans and dark, plain top, and of course, that old red hoodie. I slowly turn back towards the table, my fists balled. I really, _really _want to knock Cato out. Finnick shoots me a look that plainly says; don't do it. You'll regret it later. It's funny, because that's the exact look I gave him a week before, with the incident involving Cato's offensive comment.

"Y'know, Peeta." Cato addresses me, his face taking on the superior science-y look that I'm _sure_ Darwin had when he figured out evolution. "It's almost a shame that you're seeing Glimmer. Otherwise, you could have her over there, for what I'm SURE is her first time."

I just about explode, but somehow hold it in. I choose to ignore Cato, though I sincerely want to break his nose.

"Me, I like the redhead. What's her name… Jess? She's HOT. I'm so going to ask her to prom; it'll get her in the sack tonight, am I right, Finnick?!" He chortles, nudging Finn. Finnick glares at him like he would love nothing more than to grab his arm and twist it behind his back. No question about who Finnick likes then. Jess shoots Cato a sweet look, giggling and blushing. Finnick's expression softens, and he looks away. Sadness has taken away anger on his features.

I feel sorry for him.

I trudge home, battling the harsh winds alone. I have to get ready for prom. Where I'll dance with a girl I don't like anymore, and pretend I'm having a brilliant time, when actually, I just want to run.

Well, this sounds like it's going to be a grrrrreat night.

I shower, and smooth back my ash blonde curls. I look stupid in my black tuxedo, like a failing teenage tribute to Frank Sinatra. I can picture Clove laughing her head off at me. Speaking of Clove, I need to text her.

**MESSAGE RECIPENT: Clove is a genius.**

**MESSAGE: You going tonight?x**

**SEND?**

I press yes, and mill around my room, not really doing anything, waiting for a reply.

I'm so frustrated. It feels like my life is being ripped into two different films; teen rom-com with this whole going to prom, Glimmer being my date (the golden girl) and corsages and glitter is everywhere. I hate those genres. For the other film, imagine a really classy, black and white film, from the 1940's. Sunlight dances and you hold the girl close, open doors for her, be a gentleman. You know you are going to be torn away from her soon, from war or something else, and your whole life revolves around her smile, her presence, her kiss.

You love her.

That's the second movie. Clove is the funny, pretty girl and I'm the confused farm-hand that needs her. Needs her more than life itself.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I practically sprint across the room, tripping over the sports trophies and dirty underwear that litter the floor.

**FROM: Glimmer. **

**MESSAGE: I'm so xcited! Ready! I look 2 cute! U ready?xxxxxxxx**

**REPLY?**

I ignore her, and just as I put the phone into my pocket, because I know I have to leave to pick up Glimmer, when it vibrates again.

**FROM: Clove is a genius.**

**MESSAGE: No, studying. Jess is going. Have fun.**

**REPLY?**

I press yes, and type out a message, my fingers shaking.

**MESSAGE RECIPENT: Clove is a genius.**

**MESSAGE: I wish you were.**

**SEND?**

I press yes, and slowly put it back into my pocket. It doesn't make anymore noise, but I wasn't expecting an answer. I wearily brush my hair back because it's fallen back on my forehead, and grab Glimmer's corsage. It's a rumpled store-bought daisy, dotted with some little forget-me-nots.

If I was taking Clove, it would be wild violets and bluebells that I'd picked myself, because I know she'd prefer them.

But I'm not taking Clove.

I shake my head, and go downstairs, waving goodbye to my dad, before getting in my car. I unhitch the ignition, trying to bring her to life, suddenly, she rumbles indignantly, before finally backing out onto the road. While I'm driving, all I can think about is Clove, and how I drove her along this road, moving towards a place we didn't know. Singing at the top of her voice, the sun in her hair. I grin at the memory.

Pulling into Glimmer's drive, I knock on her door, praying that it won't open, that I won't have to go with Glimmer. Her mother answers, tells me Glimmer will be here. She's not going to take photos; Glimmer's brother is epileptic and she doesn't want the flash to start a fit. Glimmer's mother is the sort of Marilyn Monroe mom, with Botox and bleached hair, dolled up to the nines when she goes to the supermarket. Of course, Glimmer's mom doesn't go to the super market with lesser mortals; the maid can do that! Today she's wearing a jewelled white cocktail dress with a slit up the side, and bright red lipstick. Most people would think that she was going out tonight, but I'm not sure, knowing Glimmer's mom.

"MOM! IS HE HERE?!" I hear Glimmer's enchanting shriek echo down the spiral staircase.

"YES, SWEETIE! AND I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME MOM, IT MAKES ME FEEL OLD!" Glimmer's mom flashes me what's meant to be an alluring smile.

Bleuch.

And here comes the blonde madam, walking with difficulty towards me in her six inch heels. She's flashing me a face that's pouting and smiling at the same time, and I think she's a bit confused as to which Swedish model facial expression she should pick from Teen Vogue. She's wearing a flame orange dress, with a similar slit to her mothers, revealing tango-ed thigh. On the bodice, two large diamonds have been cut out of the side.

It's atrocious.

"You look lovely Glimmer." I tell her, forcing my lips into a fake smile. I hand her the corsage.

"Why thanks, Peeta." She tells me, and her voice sounds fake and high, like from Grease, and she's breathing heavily on my neck. I try not to cringe.

"Come on then, here's my car." My patience is wearing thin.

She pouts and sighs before getting in the truck, tossing her curls.

"Why do we have to go in this rust-bucket? It's grimy and common, Peeta." I ignore her, and start the engine.

This is going to be a loooooong night.

"What the hell, Glimmer?" How long has this been going on?"

"Only for a year, Peeta! It means nothing to me! Honestly."

"It meant nothing to you? That's not what you said last weekend!"

"SHUT UP, BRUTUS!"

Well, this is interesting. I went outside, looking for some air. The hall was crowded and dim, and the blue light was hurting my head. Finnick joined me, unable to take anymore of Cato and Jess dancing and acting all lovey-dovey. What I didn't expect to find was Brutus' back pressed against the wall as he held Glimmer, who's legs, incidentally, were wrapped around his waist, her dress all bunched up, while they sucked face.

"Thanks, Glim. Brilliant to know you cheated on me for a year." I say, quite gobsmacked. I turn around, ready to walk away, Finnick already ahead of me.

"It's not that bad!"

"Yes, it kind of is."

"So what does this mean?!"

"That we're over."

"OH, go screw yourself, Peeta! Go and get it on with geek-face. I never liked you anyway."  
I don't turn round, just stick one middle finger up at Brutus from behind my back. I walk around to the front of the school, trying to find where Finnick's disappeared to. The night is silent; not raining for the first time in days. The moonlight glints on the playing fields, and in the darkness the school seems less respectable and good; more like a hulking creature of the night.

I find Finnick standing stock-still in the shadows, listening to a conversation ahead. He puts his finger to his lips and I nod, staring at the back of Cato a few feet in front of us.

"I don't know Cato. I don't want to."

"Aw, come on Jess."

"Sorry, I just don't want to. I'm not ready."

"Fine, I'll take it from you, you little bitch." He raises one meaty arm, and in an instant, Finnick is there.

"Hey, Cato." He asks, tapping him on the shoulder. Cato twists his upper body around, arm still holding the wrist of a terrified Jess, who is revealed to me. He grunts at Finnick.

I didn't see it coming, but before I know it, Cato is lying knocked out on the gravel, and Finnick is standing with his fist raised, looking down at him with disgust. I move towards Jess, but Finn beats me to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

She doesn't answer verbally, just stands on her tiptoes and kisses him. I stand there smiling like an idiot, until Jess notices me.

"What are you still doing here, Peeta? Go get her!"

Y'know how I said it wasn't raining? Well, when I got home, the clouds opened like a screaming mouth and poured streams of water, covering the pavements in rain, and my window in slow moving droplets that Clove and I used to name and race.

I lie on my bed, now in normal clothes. I hold a small glass of whisky, watching the amber liquid as if it were a rare science experiment. I raise it to my mouth, grimacing at the burn as it flows down my throat. All the while, one question circles my mind.

What the hell have I got myself into?

A noise from my bedside table catches my attention, and I down the glass, before fumbling in the pitch black darkness, to where my phone is.

**FROM: Clove is a genius.**

**MESSAGE: Do you really, Peeta? Think.**

**REPLY?**

That's it. I can't take it any longer, and I storm down my stairs, and smash open the door into the evil night sky. Thunder fills my ears, along with the howling of the love-sick sea, and I smile, because the ocean's emotions match mine.

I've fallen for her.

I run along the wet cobbles, stumbling over cracks, my face wet with spray. Lightning stabs at me as I move, spreading through the dark air, white tendrils grabbing at my clothes. But I don't stop running, not until I've reached her door. I knock furiously, trying to be heard over the treacherous wind. She opens it, confused.

"Peeta?" she asks, stepping down from the doorway into the night's shadow.

The rain viciously whips her hair, and droplets run down her confused face. She wears sweats, and a navy long-sleeved top.

Nobody's ever looked that beautiful to me.

"I need you." I whisper, and a dawning look crosses her face, until I gently cup her cheeks, and bring my lips to hers.

**Oooooh! Right, replies:**

**Unseen Wonders: I prefer alpaca's to llamas, Leah ;)**

**Fabina-romione-rebel-lover: THIRD REVIEW! YOU TOTALLY ROCK! Thank you so, so much for your lovely, kind words, you totally made my day! I hope you like this chapter! Thank you so, so much, and I hope you have as much fun reading this as I do writing it!**

**Kjane2000: You are the coolest! FOUR REVIEWS! AMAZING PERSON! Thank you so much! I tried to include taste as a sense, because it's often neglected! THANK YOU SO MUCH! You really don't need to give my story a shout-out! I'll definitely have a look at your stories as soon as I've finished writing this!**

**Delilah: Thank you! Here is the update, I hope you like it!**

**HelloKitty2000: Thank you! A lot of people tell me I do too much detailing, but I don't care, I like the detail part of it! Let me know what you think!**

**SnowGemsxo: You are the person I wanted to reply to the most! Firstly, thank you for the compliment of brilliant ;) Secondly, I know exactly how you feel in that aspect, and I know it can hurt a lot. It's always especially tough when you want to hate the girl, but she's really nice! I know how frustrating that is! But don't worry, you are an amazing person, and if he doesn't see that, then it's his loss. And I know you're probably fed of being told that, but it's true! Someone amazing, kind and loyal, who will treat you right is going to fall for you, and he is going to regret not saying yes. Also, I'm a geek too! GEEK POWER! It's better than being popular, I think, because you know who your real friends are.**

**So, twenty five reviews? Okay, bye!x**


	6. Wands and Walks

**Hi guys! Thank you so much for helping me reach twenty five reviews! I'm so grateful! Replies, as always, are at the bottom! This time, can we have thirty five reviews? Sorry that it's such a challenge, but I'm going to be starting a new story called "Fragments", and it's going to be a high-school AU, starring Cato and Foxface, but not as you know them! Please check it out! READ THE COMING ANNOUNCEMENT AND DO NOT IGNORE! Also, so that the challenge isn't that bad, the thirty-fifth reviewer will win…drum roll please…a one shot based on two characters of their choice, from the hunger games! I work on any specifics you want to give me! SO REVIEW PEOPLE! Also, Unseen Wonders, you are not entitled to said one-shot, just clearing that up ;) Written in Clove's POV again! Also, this chapter is mostly romantical stuff with Clove and Peeta, but there will be darker ones to come. It's quite short! AND, I've decided I want Peeta to look like Tom Felton, who played Draco Malfoy. So there.**

* * *

He pulls away and smiles at me, a grin full of beautiful, burning light that snakes tendrils down my skin and into my heart. The rain pounds down on our skin, trying to worm its way through our delicate skin, into our equally fragile hearts. He's looking at me, blue eyes sparkling with a scary magnetism, and an electrical storm appears to be brewing beneath their ocean surface; sparks and fizzes crackle with ferocity as he stares me down.

"Well?" he chokes out, and I have to lean in to try and hear him over the gale that makes my eardrums tremor.

"Are you sure?" I almost scream back, my voice twirling and completing a ballet routine in the charged air before entering his ears.

He laughs, and for a second I think I've blown it; years of longing to feel his hand in mine, to feel his kiss steal my breath away.

"Sure? Am I sure?" He chuckles, though as its tone is at the mercy of the wind, it sounds more like a lost gasp. "Clove Manner, I've known you since I was one, and I know you still have a tiny bit of you that believes that Unicorns are real, and I know you also think that green is more depressing than calm. I know your favourite colour is violet because you like the flowers, I know that you like seal and I know that butterflies terrify you because they have scales." He moves closer, and his hand regains its feather-light position on my cheek. "And I know you love your sisters more than anyone else, and your beagle is called Pickle because of a character in a book. And I know that I'm in love with you. So yes, I'm sure."

"Glimmer?" I manage to gasp out, and I don't trust myself to not fall for his beautiful, beautiful lies. The sea spits on us, Nightlock purple waves tangling in an epic duel for supremacy.

"It's over. I couldn't be with her, but I thought you didn't love me. Didn't want me. So I stayed, but it turns out she's been with Brutus for a year anyway." He laughs, but it's humourless, and comes out cold and bitter and flat.

"She doesn't know what she's missing." I whisper, and kiss him hard again. We stay there for a while, lips locked in a chaste, chapped embrace, the storm around us like a cruel metaphor for the issues we both own.

* * *

"It's cleared up." I note, nodding slightly to my mother who sits doodling in a notebook that she cradles in her arms. I notice that while she used to draw lilies and flames and fantastical similes of her own imagination, now she paints rings, diamonds, necklaces; numbers and facts. It's like she's not her own self anymore.

"Mmm. They say that a snow storm is set to hit tonight." It's true; the rain has halted, the wind blown to a stop since that fateful night, three days ago. The cobbles have dried out, the fishermen rejoicing; the sea has been recoiling from the sea wall, rejecting the stone and keeping itself calm and quiet like a naughty child that has recently had a tantrum, but feels ashamed of itself . The darkening sky hangs outside our window like a witch's cape of night, thin coal hands tapping ever so gently on the glass. The top of the heavens is splattered in ink, which fades to a blotted mauve, eventually sinking to light lavender generously ripe with quiet stars, the lilac bottom smudged with orange from the streetlights that dangle on the pavements outside.

"Clove?" comes a small voice from the lounge, and I rouse myself from my daydreams with a flicker of my eyelids. The eyelashes dangle like fringe curtains at the top of my sight.

"Yes?" I call out, wondering what squabble involving Fleur, a pointy fairy-wand and Meghan's arm I will have to sort out now.

"Peeta's here to see you." I jolt up, my steps quick against the white-washed floor as I flee across the kitchen.

The air in the lounge is warm and stuffy from the fire that tangoes and flickers itself in crimson despair, lodged and locked inside the closed hearth; pounding against the sweating glass for its release. Fleur hangs upside down on the cream sofa, with a bubble wand held to her lips, puffing and sighing with abandon, creating blossoming spheres that drift; glassy and placid around us. Meghan is giggling as Peeta tells her jokes, freckled cheeks filled with cherry-red blood as she blushes and arches up on her tiptoes to tell him something, which she does, whispering quietly. Peeta's face promptly turns, matching the colour of Meghan's, a blossoming hollyhock red.

"Well hello there, Mr Tomato face and child." I giggle, and it makes their face even brighter, if possible, until they light up the living room like red balloon beacons. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He laughs at my cold countenance, and slides a warm, black-duffel-coated arm around my waist.

"I thought we could go for a walk. I brought cinnamon twists…" he laughs at me, raising one perfect eyebrow, which makes me immediately jealous. I've practiced for hours and hours to try and make one eyebrow go up and the other stay down, but it just does not work! On the other hand, the cloying scent of cinnamon and ginger is ensnaring my senses, so I nod, trying to act aloof.

"A WALK?! CAN WE COME?! We've been stuck in the house ALL DAY!" moans Fleur. She hangs onto my arm, until I eventually give in.

"Okay, okay! Go on, whinger! You and Meg go and get your coats and gloves. Also, bring your hats and scarfs. It's stopped raining, but it's freezing out there."

I push Meg and madam up the stairs, closely following them myself. While they scout around in their respective rooms, I grab out a sea-green jumper and pull it on, finding my pumpkin orange scarf and tying it firmly around my pale neck. I located my elusive cranberry coloured fingerless gloves, and slide them onto my slender fingers, enjoying the toasty feel.

"Ready, girls?" I call out, and Fleur and Meghan come tumbling out, Meg dressed in bright pink, while Fleur is a mesh of yellows, purples and greens, like me.

I dash downstairs, both of them flying behind me. Peeta stands expectantly in the hall, waiting for us.

"Come on then, Posies!" he sing-songs, fingers reaching for the shiny brass doorknob, and pulling, letting in a blast of frozen, icy air that hangs, dusty and disillusioned in the warmth of our hallway.

"Mom, I'm taking the girls for a walk with Peeta!"

"Okay, sweetheart! Have a great time with Peeeeeta!" she yell/laughs, and I blush heavily, slapping my face into my palm.

"Mom!" I shout back, and my reply is a loud giggle from the direction of the kitchen. I turn to Peeta, watching him silently cracking up. I hit him in the arm, and gave him one of my stares.

"OUCH! You are so going to pay for that! I ordered a deluxe Harry Potter wand off Amazon. Hawthorn and Unicorn Hair. I'm so going to patronus your behind! Don't you think I look like Harry Potter?" He asks, swooping his hair over his forehead.

"You are an idiot. First Class order of douchebag." I laugh. "Also, patronus is a spell that protects you. It doesn't do any damage, unless you're battling a dementor. And I'm not a soul-sucking guard of Azkaban. I think you mean Crucio?"

"Oh."

"And anyway, you look more like Draco Malfoy than Harry Potter." I peered at him in the harsh glow of the streetlights. "Actually, you do look A LOT like Draco Malfoy." He laughed, and proffered me his arm, which I took. Fleur and Meghan ran ahead of us on the cold stones, as we walked down the street. We reached the half-crescent balcony of grey watered stone at the end of the road, and it's hard steps that led down to the rocky forefront of the dark beach. The sea cradled the sandy parts at the bottom of the shore, and it's soothing whispers carried through the night towards us.

_Shh, shh._

It sang, over and over, like I was a fretful child and it was my mother. Although, if the sea was my parent, I think I'd rather be an orphan.

We stopped at the edge of the sea wall, that seemed to glow, crisp and smooth, in the sky, and I let my back slide against it, settling myself against the uneven stoops and pebbles. Fleur and Meghan danced on a smooth, dry-tar covered part of the coast, looking like siren children that had learned to walk on land. The strand was layered in a series of mismatched materials. A halo of rocks nestled into the tall wall, bleeding out into thick, even level of frozen tar that melted slightly when hot, staining your clothes in the process, which finished in grey, bleached sand. Peeta called softly to them, and they rushed over, eagerly receiving the warm, chocolaty treats that lay snuggled on Peeta's dark gloves, oozing goodness. These gifts were well received; they earned a tight hug, and even aloud smack of a kiss on the cheek from the exuberant Fleur, who was very pleased indeed to have the cookies. They then found a place on the thick dire rock that lay around five feet away from us, tall and towering, cwtched into its stormy crags. Peeta sank down next to me, and procured two tan, sugar-dusted twirls of flavour, passing one to me, quietly snaffling one for himself. His white-blonde hair shimmered in the dark moonlight, fascinating me. He looked like something grown from the waves, a Norse God of legend, his deep grey-blue eyes glinting with wisdom, sorrow and pride, his mouth set in a firm line. He appeared aged; older with some such beauty.

"RARRRGH! Look at me, Clove, I'm a dragon!" He yelled, somewhat breaking the effect. He was puffing out air, which turned into smoky clumps in the shadows around us. I laughed, copying him, until we were both giggling so much we couldn't talk. I lay my head against his shoulder, and his arm snaked around me, pulling me closer to his warm duffel-coated self. His head turned, kissing me softly atop of my own head.

"I'm so lucky." He murmured, sending vibrations through my skull.

I snorted.

"What?"

"I'm the lucky one."

"Not half. Who wouldn't be lucky to have this?" He asked sarcastically, pulling a half-hearted model pose before we settled back into our original position.

"What did Meghan tell you, earlier? It made you blush." I ask him. A mist creeps towards us off the bay, swirling spirals of vicious silver, and all sound I can hear is Meghan and Fleur's giggling, and the sweet whisper of the ocean.

"She told me she knew I was your prince. Then she asked me if I thought you were a princess." He stops, eyes briefly flickering to the sky before focusing back on me. "I said you were the most beautiful princess I knew."

* * *

**Sorry it's so short! Okay, points to anyone who knows who's wand I refer to earlier!**

**Kjane2000: Thank you so much! It really irritates me when girls fake-tan themselves to a bright orange, and don't care, so I had to include it ;) I'm so grateful for you giving me a shout-out! Also, I didn't know the Reaping Ball was written by you! I read that story the other day! It was class! YOU NEED TO UPDATE IT! I hope you like this chapter!**

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	7. Grief

Sorry for not updating in ages guys, I've been really busy with school! Our lucky winner was SnowGemsxo, go and check the one-shot I wrote for her about Johanna and Peeta, it's mature themed though guys, about abuse and stuff like that, so beware! It's called Burnt Bodies. Also, this is the last sweet and sugary chapter and all that, in the next couple of ones, it's going to get REALLY dark, so you have been warned! Reviews at the bottom, and this time, I am ACTUALLY going to be starting my new story, so can we have forty-five reviews? NEW ONE-SHOT TO WHOEVER IS THE FOURTY-FIFTH REVIEWER! Okay, thanks! ALSO, UNSEEN WONDERS IS NOT ELIGIBLE FOR THIS CONTEST! Notice at the bottom for you! Also, Finnick looks like Theodore Nott, from the Harry Potter series, look him up, he's gorgeous! And Marvel looks like Sebastian Smythe, also from Harry Potter. That's right, Harry Potter is my life.

* * *

I wake up to a world of white. The silence outside my windowpane is eerie as I crack the window open, breathing in the soft breaking scent of cold air, the freezing fingers of ice taking their chance and seizing my neck, making me gasp at the sensation of artic breath choking my throat. I quickly snap the lock on the window shut, jumping as my fingers come into contact with the sub-zero metal. The sky is a sickly pale yellow like the crust of an undercooked apple pie, speckled with rose pink and apricot orange. Over the horizon, the sea is blood-crusted silver, and the way it catches minty green and deep violet in the early sun fascinates me, pale clouds mirroring in it's iron surface. It almost looks like its frozen, but ripples on its shining surface tell a different story. I pull on my dark brown jeans, and find my cranberry jumper. I locate my thick cosy socks, and slide my pale feet into them. I let my hair hang down, loose in curly waves.

It's past half seven now, so Jess should be calling any minute.

There's my ring-tone.

"Hello?"

"It's meeee! ITS SNOWING, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!"

"Yes, Jess, I'm not blind. I can see it is snowing."  
"Well, I'm going over Great Uncle Haymitch's. Won't it be perfect for a snowball fight? Moms going shopping, so he'll be wasted, and won't care. C'mon Clove, Finnick, Katniss and Marvel are coming! You and Peeta will make it, right?"

There's no use arguing with her, and I have to admit, her Great Uncle Haymitch's would be perfect.

"Fine, I'll come, I can't guarantee Peeta will want too, though, Jess." I sigh. My reply is a fit of high-pitched squeals that make me cringe away from the speaker.

"He'll come if you go! Okay, come over anytime after eleven. OH MY, THIS IS JUST GOING TO BE SPECTACULAR."

I press end and flick the phone with a smooth sideways swoop of the wrist onto my bedside table. I'm just about to crack open my book, The Earth Hums in B Flat, when two sets of tiny fists pound away at the worn wood of my bedroom door. I trudge up, well anticipating what's about to come next, and pull open the squeaky, swollen wood.

I am bombarded by a million different questions/phrases/quotes, and Meghan and Fleur are fast following me, and they're+ backing me up into a corner, little snub noses reaching me quickly, stubby fingers being waved and pointed around.

"Clove, Clove, it's snowing!"

"Will you help us make a snowman?"

"You promised that if it snowed you'd help us make a snowman!"

"Yeah, Clove, you did promise!"

"Mommy's making us hot chocolate, do you want some?"

"It's really nice, Clove, it's the Belgian one. I saved you marshmallows! Fleur wanted to eat them all!"

"We need to steal carrots from the kitchen so that the snowman can have horses!"

"WOAH! One at a time, please girls! Fleur, I know it's snowing. Yes, I will help you make a snowman, Meg. Yes, I would like hot chocolate. Fleur, the people of the snowmen race do not need horses. I will be down in a second. Go and get scarves, hats and gloves. SHOO!" I wave them away, Fleur sticking her tongue out and shoving Meghan as she goes.

I text Peeta about Jess's plan, and he tells me he will definitely go. Washing my face, I catch a hold of myself in the mirror.

I don't look like what I'm used to myself looking like.

I look happy.

* * *

The morning goes fast, and before I know it, I'm sitting in Peeta's newly snow-chained car. His silvery blonde hair glistens with not quite melted flecks of snow. He smiles at me, a quiet gleam on his soft lips, as his fingers tap out a melody onto the hard leather of the steering wheel of the truck. His eyes are stuck onto the spiralling concrete in front of us, and I find myself studying his irises. They are a cutting ice blue, and shimmer with iron grey, a sliver of metal lost in a cerulean ocean. They are framed with unusually dark eyelashes, and when he's not laughing or talking or just being stupid, they shine with a new edge; a touch of hardness. They look so lost and lonely, and sometimes just plain ready to take flight and run away. My fingers find his own slender ones, and he continues to stare at the road and its snow-blanketed sides. My heart thuds in my ears for some unknown reason, just because he's there, and his hand is so cold in my own.

"Peeta?"  
"Mm?"  
I falter. What do you say when you see that loneliness in somebody's eyes? You can't just ask. Cauliflower flowers span the road's edges, thin green stalks making breaks in the snow, the fluffy curly petals shining cream and undisturbed by the ice.

"Nothing."

* * *

Haymitch Abernathy's mansion looms above us, desolate and foreboding in the frozen forest that surrounds it. The sky has started to flare in light blue, but that aqua front brings in hazy clouds of bruised violet that hang over the truck, so low that it appears if I stepped outside, they would settle on my shoulders. The mansion is a dark grey, very traditional and gothic, and has a towering turret that pricks the upper atmosphere, and it makes my smile sadly, because it looks like the tower has created a cut in the heavens where the indigo mist is seeping out like blood. The black slates on the roof sweat with the new frost. The immaculate gardens are hushed into a state of calm and quiet sleepiness with a soft shawl of lacy white powder.

Haymitch used to be a very, very rich man. His business dealings were exaggerated and sold to young people everywhere, telling of the millions earned by the poor boy from the slums of the main city, C, called the Seam. He was exuberant and charming, and with his fine dark curls and grey eyes, he swept many a young lady away with a swish of a tan hand and a nod of a fine velvet top hat. But none of those foolish, pretty blonde models made an impact on him like Maysilee Donner. She was the daughter of a rich merchant from out of town, a man full of exotic spices and shining jewels made from paste and sleight of hand. Quiet and shy, the opposite to her cheeky, confident twin, Maysilee read avidly, confining herself to leather bound libraries and soft candlelight. She was clever, and sarcastic, and Haymitch met her in a dance she had been forced to attend. (I've heard this story many a time from Jess's mother, and it interests me highly) She was beautiful, with a fringe and curls of the finest flaxen blonde, and she was bedecked in a crimson satin cocktail dressed, dripping with rubies on her neck and wrist. Her white evening gloves were seamless, and she glowed with promise of good children and money. The dim lanterns of the ballroom seemed to follow her as she moved and shrugged away awkwardly from the well meanings of her pursuers, moving like a ghost in her nineteen forties dress through the grand hall. She was only sixteen, but it was 1949 and her father was looking for himself to get richer, so she was being forced to find herself a husband. True, what drew Haymitch to her in the first place was the tantalising curves of her slim body and the glitter of her shining green eyes, the wealth that her outfit and jewellery screamed. He thought her to be stunning, but a quick fix for the night and then off. He was too only young; seventeen. But when he flashed her that white-toothed smile as he caught her at the wide-brimmed staircase, he got more than expected. She was cynical, sarcastic and quick-witted, unimpressed with his schoolboy sweetheart grin, and told him too. Once the arguing and back-talk was out of the way, they struck up conversation.

They were married within the year, and moved into Haregate Thorn, the manor Haymitch had purchased as their newlywed home. They were infatuated with one another, and wanted a family as quickly as possible. Haymitch's brother (Jess's granddad) was young, only five, and murder was rife in The Seam, so Haymitch and Maysilee took him in. Two weeks later, their mother was killed in an arson attack in their squalid shack, aged thirty one. She was only fourteen when she bore Haymitch.

Although they tried and tried, Maysilee failed to get pregnant, but both so adoring of each other they devoted their life to one another and to taking care of David, Haymitch's brother. But both secretly wished they had a child to treasure and hold, Maysilee so badly it made her bones ache with longing, and her smile turn into something rarely seen. So when Maysilee found out she was pregnant at the age of thirty, they were both awash with fervour and happiness, and Jess's grandpa said you'd never seen a woman so overjoyed for the arrival of their child. Haymitch was a grinning fool, and the months went by slower than sludge for they were both so ready. One day, at eight months, Maysilee left to buy the baby a shawl for the bedroom that was already painted and decorated, in C, the main part of the city. Haymitch was planning on joining her, but she shooed him away with a reassurance that she would be fine.

Then disaster struck.

The mafia of C, known as the "Hunger", were furious at Haymitch, because he had refused to deal with them. Bubbling with rage one night, their leader "Snow", as he was called, for the silent malice in all his plans, made a decision. He hired the highly trained sniper assassin, known mysteriously as "The Bird."

Maysilee Abernathy, nee Donner, was returning to her chauffeur driven motor car, when a glimpse of candy pink at the top of a roof caught her eye. She didn't see the bullet until it was too late.

Haymitch Abernathy lost everything he ever loved with that one shot. His wife he adored more than anything. The child he never got to meet.

He also lost his compassion, his humanity, his sanity.

"Snow" was put to death by firing squad. Haymitch went to watch, and stood behind the shooters as they fired rapidly, gazing with cold eyes as the man who ordered his wife's death keel to the floor, red running like a river from his burbling mouth, watching the blood as it splattered the concrete. They never caught the Bird.

Now, Haymitch remains in Haregate Thorn. He never leaves, just stays in the library in front of the roaring fire, staring into the bottom of a crystal cut glass filled with whiskey. Maids like Hazelle, Gale's mom, flutter about him, keep the house clean, keep him fed. He also has a 24 hour housekeeper, whom he was therapist-required to have after his first suicide try, just in case.

* * *

Jess welcomes us with a hug and Marvel and Katniss smile brightly from their place on the pale-stone fountain in the centre of the driveway. The cold cherubs hold water jugs that pour out a frozen stream of ice into the hollow pond surrounding them. Finnick follows Jess, smiling with love at her. His high cheekbones and strong jaw are red with the chill, his dark hair messy and spiky with biting hoarfrost. Katniss's usual olive skin contrasts with the surroundings, and Marvel grins cheekily at her, his hand in hers. His dimples are wide and his dark eyes dilated as she gazes up at him dreamily.

"It's freezing!" Jess exclaims, rubbing her arms. In response, Finnick wraps his strong hands around her tiny waist, pulling her close to him. It has begun to snow lightly, and wisps of it ride smokily around me. Peeta squeezes my hand gently, and brings the other hand up to brush some stray snowflakes from my nose.

"Are we having this snowball fight, then Jess? I am so on Team Cleeta!" Peeta exclaims. The pensive, lost look in his eyes from earlier is gone.

"And what, exactly is Team Cleeta?" I laugh.  
"Oh, Clove and Peeta combined. Finn, Marvel and me came up with it the other day. Marvel and Kat are called Marvniss, and Finn and Jess are called Finnface, to honour Glimmer." He winks at Jess, who's trying to hit him.

"You three are such old women. Finnface? Cleeta? Marvniss? Even us three girls aren't as bad as that!"

* * *

The snow has begun to pelt down in the mother of all blizzards, and there is no way we are getting home. Trudging inside after a snowball fight where nobody really won but where everybody got very cold, we contact our parents, and arrange to stay here until the morning. Jess's mom phones Haymitch, and he agrees to let us reside here for the night. There's more than enough guest rooms.

"I have a great idea guys! Let's play Hide 'n' seek. It would be awesome in a house like this." Katniss suggests, her nose in the air as she stares upwards at the high granite ceilings of the entrance hall in awe. Everyone agrees, Jess and Marvel are on, and suddenly I am alone in this silent stone palace. I wander from corridor to corridor, the flickering gaslights lighting my way up grandiose staircases and antique rug floors. My fingers trace faded wallpapers, and I walk the carpets that a dead woman once danced along with her husband. Pale squares mark the walls where crinkly black and white photographs used to hang, and I wonder what each of the photographs used to remark, what scene or piece of beauty it captured. I think that the squares are lonely without their framed companions. The sadness in this part of the house is pretty much tangible, and my heart aches. I find myself walking down a corridor lined in fading distemper, and it looks like the paint has faces, staring down at me. The peels in it look like the distemper is weeping. A large wooden door marks the end of the hallway, and I figure out this is a good place to hide. Slipping inside, I find myself in a huge library, the dark shelves reaching up to the heavens, filled with books new and old, books with covers so ancient you can't make out the words, books that shine with misleading quality. Rolling ladders are placed randomly along the rows, and I know I could spend forever in here, just reading and admiring. I stand on a tiny elevated platform, and I wander down the carpeted steps, hand trailing absent-mindedly on the banister. An iron fireplace stands sputtering with orange flames behind its stacked and steeped grate, and two wing-backed armchairs sit facing it. Both have their backs to me, but I don't mind. I almost dance over to a shelf nearest the fire, marvelling at the names of the books and the little marks that identify them to be first edition.

"It's lovely, isn't it? The library. I built this for her. Oh, she loved her books, my Maisie did."

I spin on my heel to see Haymitch Abernathy slumped on one of the chairs, his eyes alive with the fantastic embers in front of him. He has a shock of hair, streaked with its original black, even though he is an old, old man now. Wrinkles decorate his face, and his grey irises are haunted with depression. He wears dark corduroy trousers, a sludge-green jumper and a scarlet house-robe, embroidered with a golden "H". He doesn't look at me.

"I'm so sorry sir, I didn't mean to intrude, we were playing hide 'n' seek and I got lost." I've met him before, but I don't expect him to remember me.

"Don't worry, dear, have a seat in that chair there. It's nice to have the company sometimes."

I feel impolite not to, and he has that air of magic, a world of stories of the days where when the day got longer, so did a lady's gloves, that draws me to sit down in the comfy seat near his.

"She was a one, my Maisie. Most of the women I'd met only needed gold, silver and a couple a' dresses and then they'd be yours. But she never had an eye for that stuff; she wanted Shakespeare, not Chanel."  
"I'm a big reader, sir."

"Are you? Do you like poems? She used to love poems."

"I read a lot of poems sir." It's true; I do like them, I'm not just saying that to appease him.

"Who's your favourite poet, dear?"

"William Wordsworth, sir."

"Call me Hay, dear, not sir. It makes me feel old." He jokes "Who did you say you liked? Wordsworth? She used to adore him. He was her favourite too. Used to make me listen, and she would read him out to me. Oh, I would huff and puff, make a big song and dance about how poems were awful, but it was only a lark. I used to love it when she read to me."

"What was her favourite poem?"

"Oh, let's see here, I can't rightly remember." He sits up straighter, and a determined look passes over his face, but his eyes still remained glazed over with sadness. I wonder if he's picturing her where I'm sitting now, hand on her swollen stomach, with a book of Wordsworth's poems in her palm.

"I've got it! It was called She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways. Great Gatsby, how could I have forgotten that?" He laughs, and it's full of memories and happiness long gone. "The amount of times she read that damned poem to me. Huh. She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways."

"A violet by a mossy stone, half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky." I whisper, quoting it.

"That's right." He gives me a sad grin. "I called her that. Fair as a star, you are, my dear. That's what I used to say to her. Because she was. Fair as a star. She used to laugh at me when I said that. It became our inside joke." Tears collect at the corners of his vision. "We painted the ceiling of the babe's room midnight blue, with just one star shining above the crib, all because of that poem." He sighs, and retreats into silence for a while. "Do you like it too, dear?" he asks me.

"Yes, it's my favourite poem."

He turns and smiles at me.

"I still keep her clothes. They smell just like her." My throat closes a little, and hot tears sting my eyes. "I miss her so much, dear. They tell you that grief gets better with the years. It doesn't. Don't listen to them, dear."

Again we are quiet, the crackling of the fire in its hearth the only noise disrupting the dust-filled air of the library. He turns back to the flames, and the tears leak out from his weary eyes, but he just watches the blaze. I don't think he's here. I think he's back with her, waltzing around here with her and her bare feet, her white prairie dress. He can't hear silence and the burning embers as they hiss, only Maysilee's high peals of laughter and the swish of her skirts as he spins her around and around. He can't feel the hard arm of the chair, only her soft hand and the kick of the unborn child in her stomach. Or maybe he's at the hospital, rushing in, smart-shoed footsteps hitting the floor as he's running and praying. Pleading with God that when he gets redirected by the receptionist and taken somewhere with a nurse that it won't be the place he thinks it is. Maybe he's there, at the morgue, bent over her blood-stained and young body, clutching her cold hand, begging Maysilee to wake up as he weeps, salty tears of regret running down his tan cheeks. Maybe he's at the church, still inside the pebble-dashed walls as people file out, murmuring condolences, sitting in silence on the polished oak benches as he wishes he went with her, wishes he was there to protect her. Maybe he's standing alone on the rain soaked green grass, staring at the slate black headstone that reads his Maisie's name, watching as the brass handled coffin is lowered into the ground. Maybe he's there, in the cemetery, visiting her, gazing at the violets he has laid at the stoop of the gravestone, standing stoic and dark and silent, trying desperately not to collapse and sob and weep for her to come back. Maybe he's staring at the blade as it glints in the firelight, the object that will possibly take him to heaven with his wife and child.

"They say grief gets better with time, dear. It doesn't. It really doesn't."

* * *

**That was a really emotional chapter to write! The inspiration was the song When You're Gone.**

**Kjane2000:Thank you! Your reviewing has really encouraged me! Let me know what you think!**

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**So, forty five reviews and a one-shot? Thanks guys! **


	8. Boxers, Guitars, and Bruises

**Hi guys, sorry for not updating in ageeeees! I've been really busy at school and that, but I know it's not an excuse but oh well. Replies to my fabulous reviewers at the bottom! And because I've been giving you arduous review tasks, can I 50 reviews by next time? That's only five! Also, disregard Gabrielle Aplin as Clove, I actually want her to be Isabelle Furhman, who played Clove in the movie. Sorry to chop and change!**

* * *

Marvel's the one that finds me. Haymitch waved me on, and returned to staring at the fire. His words circle my mind as Marvel and I trudge back through the corridors. He was one of the first to be found, apparently.

"Hey, Clove?" He whispers, and it's soft, his voice shy in the faded floral corridor we're standing in now.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Does Katniss ever..say anything about me?" he cocks his head to the side and nervously raises the corners of his lips in a little boy grin. I laugh at his nervousness, and give him a hug.

"What was that for?" He asks. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Marvel, thank you for making me laugh. I've never thanked you before, and you do cheer me up." He gives me a toothy smile, and mock-bows.

"It is my pleasure, m'Lady Clove. Now, does she actually say anything about me? Sorry to bother you about it, but- but a lot of people over the years have told me how worthless and stupid I am. I know it's true; I'm dreamy and stupid and can't really do anything, but she's beautiful." His eyes shine in the gloom of the hallway when he mentions Katniss. "And smart and funny. I don't know why she wants to be with an idiot like me. But it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I need to know if she does love me, because believe me Clove, I will do absolutely anything to keep her happy. To keep her with me."

I am utterly shocked.

Wake the hell up, Clove, you idiot, he just poured his damn heart out to you and you're standing there like a lemon for god's sake.

"Marvel, you are one of the kindest, genuine people I know, and you might not believe me, but I know you have something within you, something brave and strong that makes you ten times smarter than me. " He snorts at this, and I give him one of my stares to shut him up. "Don't contradict me. She loves you Marvel, don't think I'm wrong. She's just as self-conscious as you are, but she loves you. You can see it when she looks at you."

"Thanks, Clove. You always know what to say."

"Well, that's me isn't it? Now, let's go find the others."

* * *

"Nooooo." I say, my voice absolutely stunned. "No way do you have this Jess."

"Well I don't have it, do I? It's Uncle Haymitch's."

"Well. I'm not going to let this go to waste, am I?"

In front of me is a-state-of-the art, in perfect condition, eighteenth century piano. The ebony wood is winking at me in the fading sunlight that comes in from the bay windows, the cream keys caterwauling at me; Clooooooove. Come play us, Clooooove.

Good god.

I sit down on the seat and my fingers tap quietly at the keys.

"What shall I play?"

"Something... I don't know... New!" Pipes up Jess. Finnick laughs and kisses her forehead.

"Play what you want, Clove, it's going to be amazing anyway." Katniss tells me from her place on the window seat, curled up on Marvel's lap.

Peeta smiles encouragingly at me, his first true grin all day. He's standing by the piano, resting his arm on the lid, like a cabaret singer. I tell him this, and he laughs, and tells me he has a surprise for me if I play.

"Okay, I'll play."

"I'll be right back, but start anyway."

My fingers start to pick out a familiar tune on the keys.

Da-da-da

Notes start to dance like Mosquitos in the air. This song isn't meant to be on a piano, more on a guitar, but I love it.

"I see your face in my mind as I drive away, because none of us thought it was gonna end that way." I'm surprised to find myself singing along. Everyone looks at me, but Peeta's still missing.

"People are people and sometimes we change our minds, but it's killing me to see you go after all this time." My voice is strong and I surprise myself in the fact that I actually sound like the singer, Taylor Swift. I let go and lose myself in the lyrics. Halfway through the chorus, I hear footsteps, and in comes Peeta, with a pink fluffy boa around his neck, a hairbrush in his hand, and he starts singing along to the song, resting against the piano like he did earlier.

I burst into laughter.

* * *

It's a deep velvet blue outside, scattered with petulant stars, and we're still in the piano room. I think it's near one, but the piano has been discarded for some old guitars Peeta and Jess have found, because with their nosiness combined, they are like two bloodhounds when it comes to sniffing stuff out. I don't think I've ever laughed as much as I havetonight, after a couple hours of pukey singing from Marvel. I've pulled my hair back into one fishtail plait, and Jess ransacked us three girls pyjamas from the room she stays in over here, so I'm in TINY stripy shorts and a blue camisole, which has a v-neckline, and I am not happy about this choice of clothing. Katniss wasn't so lucky and is now in a silk nightie, which is brown with aqua lace, and she does not look happy about wearing it.

Marvel, on the other hand, DOES look happy that she's wearing it, judging from the awe-struck turned drooling looks shot in her direction. Jess is the unluckiest, because her nightie is bright pink with lime green lace, and it's cut slightly shorter than Katniss's, who's nightie is down to her knees. Jess loves pretty nighties, and pyjamas, but she is certainly blushing. Finnick doesn't seem to mind so much though, he actually appears to be relishing her choice of attire.

"I have an idea!" Squeal Jess, always the excitable one. "Truth or dare!"

This is met with excitable cries of yes, and soon we're all sitting in a circle, filled with anticipation at what's about to happen.

"Since I thought of the idea, I'll go first. Okay, Peeta, truth or dare."

Peeta, always the wild one, picks dare.

"This is a dare for all the boys." Jess says, to pouts of protest, which she ignores. "Me and the girls are in, ahem, somewhat revealing clothes, so, you all have to strip to your boxers."

This is met with looks of outrage and yells of unfairness. Jess, Katniss and I all give them demon glares, and they eventually relent. First is Marvel, who strips nonchalantly, sitting down beside Katniss in-wait for it- HOT PINK boxers. I stifle my laughter.

Then comes Finnick, who wears more subtle blue boxers, who tries to cover himself with well-toned arms to no avail. I don't know why he'd care though; I have to admit he has a smooth tan stomach, and Jess is practically drooling. Then, Peeta reveals his.

Oh my.

He wears black, designer boxers, with a grey band, and his skin is like marble underneath. His stomach is hard with-get this- a six-pack. I have to mentally tuck my tongue back in my mouth.

"Peeta, your go." Jess tells him, but she's staring at Finnick.

"Katniss, truth or dare?"

After a while, the dares get repetitive, but Finnick's face brightens in an idea, and he runs out of the room quickly, leaving us all wondering.

Our questions are answered when he comes back with a glass coke bottle.

"Spin the bottle." He informs us, grinning mischievously, like an imp.

Here we go.

* * *

I haven't been picked yet, but it's only a matter of time.

"And twist!" Peeta cries, belligerently, viciously twisting the glass bottle, sending it spinning wildly. (Everyone agreed that this doesn't affect our respective relationships, and nothing that happens will leave this room.

Whirrrrr-whirrrr-whirrr

It's getting closer to stopping.

Whirr-whir.

The bottle clatters to a halt, pointing at Katniss. They both lean in hesitantly, and quickly give each other a small kiss.

"Pathetic!" Marvel, Jess and I say at the same time.

Finnick just giggles.

Peeta points to Finn, indicating that it's his turn. He makes a scared face, before fully-launching into a spin of the bottle.

Oh god.

It's stopped on me.

Peeta wolf-whistles, and Katniss and Jess burst into fits of giggles. Marvel's wetting himself in the corner.

"It can't be pathetic mind, like Peeta's and Katniss's. Clove hasn't had a go yet. Peeta and Katniss have, so they can be excused. You have to have a proper smooooooch." Catcalls Jess. Everyone but me and Finn nods.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Peeta and Jess begin to chant. Marvel and Katniss soon join in.

"Come on, Clove, may as well get it over with!" Whistles Finnick.

"Cheek of you, boy! Are you saying that you don't want to kiss me?"

He just laughs in response.

I move towards him, and soon we seal our lips together. I keep my eyes open. It's not unpleasant, but it's not kissing Peeta, that's for sure.

* * *

The guitars have been salvaged again, and I have been summoned to play something dance-y and country.

I am handed a guitar, but I protest, because I want to dance as well.

"Have you got a docking station, Jess? I have my IPhone!" Marvel says. I'm so jealous, but I'm getting my new phone for my birthday so.

It turns out Jess does have a docking station, and we took an executive decision to put my IPod that was in my bag on instead, because Marvel's music taste is awful.

Double Heart by The Band Perry comes on, and soon we're proper square-dancing around the living room, clad in basically our underwear. I end up in Peeta's arms, and we're both in fits of laughter.

He get's close to me, so close our lips are almost-almost-touching.

"I like Marvel's underwear, Clove, do you?" He says, ruining the moment just to be annoying.

* * *

Two days later, I'm walking through the snowy streets towards Main Street. I'm going to meet up with Peeta and everyone for the first time since Haymitch's house, and it's going to be great!

It's around sundown, so the streetlights are flickering one-by-one to life, and I jam my hands into the pockets of my new navy hoodie. My hair is down, wavy with raven curls, and I'm wearing a white t-shirt. I have navy jeans with a red belt on, and a red flower clip in my hair, along with red converses.

It's not stopped freak-snow-storming, but it's calmed down now, and a sparse fluttering of white flakes come spiralling down at me.

It's silent in the air, and I round a corner, near the sugar-house street I had a meltdown in.

Glimmer's street.

They stalk out of the shadows, Glimmer, Johanna, Enobaria, Cashmere and a blonde girl I don't recognise. Glimmer is tapping her sugar pink fake nails on her hips, and you can see she is the head of the group. I soon realise I'm surrounded, when I try to back away from her.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Little Clovey-Wovey. Where's your precious fox-faced friend? I have a couple of words for her too, for stealing Finnick from Johanna."

"What the hell, Glimmer?!"

"Shut it, bitch." She hisses, and spits at my feet. I recoil in horror, and find someone holding my arms back. It's the unfamiliar blonde girl.

"This is my cousin, Melody Snow. Mel, this is Clove." The blonde snarls at me. "Mel's come here to help me with something today. You stole Peeta from me."

"Glimmer, you cheated on him. I didn't steal anyone."

"I said be quiet!" She screams. I shut up. "You stole from me, Clove. And what do we do with thieves, girls?" she asks rhetorically, putting one finger to her lips, rolling her eyes upwards in mock confusion. "That's right. We punish them."

I'm not expecting it when she punches me, full force, in the nose. The arms restricting me loosen and I fall back, tripping over my own clumsy feet as I try to stop the blood dripping from my nostrils.

"You don't get away that easy." Glimmer hisses, and snatches the neck of my t-shirt, effectively locking me in place. She rams her fist into my face again and again. My eyes burn and my lip and nose are now pouring with scarlet liquid. I can taste a horrible rust in my mouth, and I feel faint.

She finally releases me, but I'm clumsy with the blood that I'm losing, so I fall hard when someone-I think it's Melody-trips me up. I lie sprawled on the cobbles, crimson splattering the grubby snow.

"You... Fucking... Whore." Glimmer spits at me as I lie there on the hard, unforgiving concrete.

Then the kicking starts.

Glimmer drives her high-heeled boots into my chest and ribs, again and again. The pain inside of me is burning and I gasp. It courses through my veins and I let go of my lip which I have been involuntarily biting, and tears begin to flow, mixing and diluting the amoeba-filled scarlet liquid that is beginning to pour on my face. My chest screams in protest, and I can't help but cry out in pain as she drives the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe into the crevices of my ribs, over and over, until I hear a soft but clearly noticeable crack, and it's a tiny break of calm, before the real stinging starts. It winds me, and I can't breathe with how much it hurts.

She doesn't stop though, but I refuse to beg her for mercy. It seems to aggravates, and she gets Melody to bend down and hit me again in the face while she kicks me.

"Maybe we should stop now, Glimmer? She's bleeding a lot. Glim? This is getting dangerous!" Johanna begins to yell.

I am blending in and out of consciousness, but I manage to hear what she says, and glance down to my t-shirt, where blossoms of cherry are beginning to flower on the white cloth. I recognise the hot slippery feeling on my torso to be blood.

The word cherry makes me remember something, but all I can conjure up is a pale rose pink haze.

My eyes are fluttering open and closed, and the reflections of Glimmer and co are becoming distant.

"Enobaria. Prove to me that you're worth my time." I hear Glimmer snarl, and the word hazing flickers to mind,

but I can't quite recall the definition. Suddenly a harsh, bone-grinding pain stabs at my neck, and my throat closes up so much I can't breathe. I'm being strangled, and I'm choking with lack of air.

"Well done, Enobaria. Now you, Johanna." The hand around my neck relaxes and pull away, and I gasp for air, before my darkening conscious registers what she just said and I begin to sob, curling up in preparation of Johanna's beating.

"Hell no, Glimmer, I'm not having any part of this. It's getting dangerous, Glim, she might die!"

"So she should, fucking bitch, she stole from me! Nobody steals from Glimmer. Nobody!"

"This is insane, Glimmer! Stop!"

"Fuck off Johanna!"

The kicks are coming furiously now, and the blood is coating my torso.

"Die, bitch, die."

Then a final stiletto in between my ribs, which is twisted and driven in, the blackness takes over, a cloak of shadows on my vision, and I lie, broken and bruised, bleeding the life out of me, on the pavement.

* * *

**Ooooooh! The quicker you review guys, the quicker the conclusion! Sorry for any mistakes, written on my phone!**

**clato4ever7: Thank you! Please let me know what you think of this chapter!**

**Kjane2000: Thanks! 7 reviews! You rock!**

**UnseenWonders: Awwww, Leah getting emotional!**

**HelloKitty2000:Thanks! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, I hope you like it!**

**LouisaXxX:Thanks! I like the traditional pairings, but I wanted to try something different from the traditional Clato/Peetniss, and I love my Cleeta!**

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**TheOtherLachance: I love, love, love my Finnface idea, I might write a story about them! Thank you for your review, I wanted to incorporate the whole Maysilee death in a modern day way! Let me know what you think!**

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**Okay, 50 reviews okay? Thanks**!


	9. Who did this?

**You guys are the best. Seriously, the best. 51 reviews in two days? Has it even been two days? I'm not sure, I get muddled with stuff like that! Okay, this might be quite a short chapter, so 55 reviews before next time? This is Peeta's point of view by the way!**

* * *

It's bitingly cold outside, and the stars are tentatively starting to poke their heads out in the black velvet of the sky. I smile fondly, thinking of Clove; she loves this sort of sky.

I'm outside the Lamb and Plum, with Jess, Finnick, Marvel and Katniss, and the only one we're waiting for is Clove. She's almost forty five minutes late, I'm starting to worry, but it's Clove. She's probably got distracted by Shakespeare or something. I turn up my collar of my black duffel coat, and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of the diner.

Wow, I do look like Draco Malfoy.

Finnick winds his arms around Jess' waist because she's shivering, and she settles back into his stomach. I grin. I'm really happy for Finn, he deserves Jess, a good girl who cares for him, someone who will treat him right. Not someone like Johanna.

Marvel and Katniss have started to make out against the wall, and I turn away, slightly sickened, because well hey, it's not me, and Katniss isn't Clove.

She was meant to be here at 8; it's8:50now.

My ringtone cuts a dash from the snow patterned quiet, Ben Howard's smooth folky voice crooning Only Love. It's an unknown number, so I cautiously press the answer button, and raise it to my ear.

"Hello?" I ask warily.

"Is it Clove?" Pipes Jess, and I shake my head and hold a finger to my lips to tell her to be quiet.

"P-Peeta? Peeta Mellark?"

"Cato? Is that you?"

If I'm not mistaken, that's Cato, but his voice is wracked with worry, and he sounds terrified, which is an emotion Cato is unfamiliar with. I don't think I've ever seen or heard him this upset, and it makes my eyebrows knit together in anticipation of what is so bad.

"Y-yes, it's Cato, Cato Darius. Peeta, I-I need your help!"

"What's up, Cato? I don't know if I can be much help for much apart from home ec or art. Also, I am NOT helping you beat up some kid you don't like."

"It's not that kind of help. I just f-found her, lying in the snow, and she's b-bleeding s-so much.. I don't know how to stop the blood!" His voice is quavering and choked with frightened sobs. Cato has never cried in front of me before, this must be really bad.

Someone's hurt? I still don't know why he rang me, but I'll try to help him as much as I can.

"Who's bleeding, Cato? Where are you?" My fingers tighten around my phone as I wait for his answer.

"I'm-We're on Blunt Rock Drive, near Cornucopia Avenue and Feast Street."

"Who's bleeding, Cato?"

"S-she was just there, and there was so-so much blood, and I didn't know what to do. I found her phone in her pocket, because I was trying to stop the bleeding from her side.. And you were the first name on her c-contacts. I didn't know what else to do- I've known h-her for so long, she won't stop bleeding Peeta! You were the first on her contacts, you were the first." He garbles, and it's clear he has no idea what to do.

Wait-

Know her for so long.

Me the first on her contacts.

She won't stop bleeding.

"Clove." I whisper.

I drop the phone and turn on my heel, pounding along the pavement.

Must reach her.

Jess and the rest are calling my name and I think Finnick's about to follow me, but I don't care, because right now it might be her that's bleeding and broken.

I round the corner into Blunt Rock Drive, and I see Cato's blonde hair as he bends down, trying to put pressure on a wound that's hiding underneath a severely blood-stained t-shirt. The white snow around him and the tiny frame of the girl- I know it's a girl, it's too skinny to be a boy- who's face is obscured by Cato's form, is crimson with blood. Tears are falling down his face and he's muttering to himself. As I near them I can hear him.

"I'm so sorry, I will never ever be a jerk again, never hurt anyone again, if you pull through. Please, please, open your eyes!"

Cato has known Clove for as long as I have, and they are practically brother and sister, whereas there has always been something more for me and Clove. Cato comes across as a jerk, but he's actually a lovely guy. Most of the stuff he does he is pressured into, by Brutus and that. I know he would never ever try to rape Jess without being forced to-not excusing him, of course.

I'm praying, pleading with some unknown force that that person is not Clove.

Please. Not her. Not her.

But when he pulls back to look at me, the sadness and urgency in his eyes tells me all I need to know.

I drop to the floor on my knees, my hands coming up to cover my mouth.

"Oh god, no. Clove. No."

Cato lets me wallow in my desperation for about half a minute.

"Peeta, she won't stop bleeding, she won't stop bleeding, what do I do?"

I hear footsteps behind me and I hear an exhale of breath when Finnick sees Clove's wrecked face, broken nose, the blood that has blossomed like red ink blots on her top.

I rise quickly and run over to her, motioning Cato to move out the way. I crouch to the floor, and take in the full sight.

Bruises spiral over her eyes, her cheeks, even her arms. She is unconscious, obviously, but her chest is ragged with difficulty to breathe, so I know that at least one of her ribs has been broken or has cracked. Black bruised finger marks clutch at her neck.

"Jesus."

That's Finnick.

I hear Jess's footsteps, and her shocked shout and then the start of her sobs as she sees Clove's broken body.

I pick her up gently, and she's like a rag doll in my arms.

"Jess, go get Clove's mother, tell her to meet us at the hospital and tell my dad I said he needs to babysit Meg and Fleur. Finn, go get my car, drive over to here." Cato looks disheartened and desperate when I don't include him. "Cato, you're coming with us. She needs you too."

* * *

The ride to the hospital is long and I know we've lost valuable time. When we finally get to the emergency room, I sprint out of the car with Clove in my arms, and I push open the door with my one free hand, Cato hot on my heels.

"Please, someone get me a doctor!"

I yell, and the room goes silent when their eyes fall on the battered girl I hold in my arms.

* * *

It passes in a blur, me sitting on a hard plastic

orange chair outside a non-descript hospital room. Clove's mom joins me at some point, and she just sits, her hands shaking and her head hung low.

"Mr Mellark, Mrs Manner?" A doctor emerges from the room and stares at us, a little trio of nurses behind him, fluttering their eyelashes at him and holding clipboards.

I jolt up and I see from the corner of my eyes. My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry, and my hands have begun the shaking that Clove's moms were just doing.

"Is she alive? Please say she made it." I whisper, and my voice is shaking. Tears begin to spill from Blye's-Clove's moms- eyes.

"Clove is going to be fine, but it will take a couple of weeks. She has three broken ribs, she has some damage to her neck, similar to whiplash, her nose is broken, and she is severely bruised and wounded. She is awake now, but only slightly. She said the word Peeta, is that relevant to anything?"

"That's my name-I'm her boyfriend, and her best friend." I manage to choke out. Really, I know me and Blye are just on a high because she's alive. The doctor lets out a small smile, before proceeding to ask the question that has been haunting me since I found her.

"This was no accident. Do you know who did this to her?"

Who did this to her?

* * *

55 reviews if possible? Thanks guys!

SnowGemsxo: Thank you! Your reviews always make my day! I hope you like this chapter, and in respond to your pm, I would be delighted to read your story, which I will do so shortly.

clato4ever7: Thank you! I really enjoy writing this story! Let me know what you think of this chapter!

123: Nope, Clove is alive but severely damaged.

Rebyll: Thank you for your review! It's always nice to know new people have been reading my story! Don't worry, this isn't the conclusion, there are going to be some even DARKER perils in their path! (Sneak peek here guys!) Let me know what you think of this chapter!

jellyismything: Thank you for your kind review! I won't get off track, don't worry! I also love your author name, just thought I'd let you know! Let me know what you think of this chapter!

HelloKitty2000: I'm evil, I know ;) I hate Glimmer as well! I wanted there to be more suspense, rather than the girl getting rescued by a prince, so thats why I let Clove get hurt! I love your reviews, they're so nice! I hope you like this chapter!

So, 55 reviews? Thanks!


	10. Debts

**Hi guys, I am really, really sorry I haven't updated in AGES, and you've given me way over the amount of reviews I asked for! But, I wrote this other chapter on my phone, and it was almost six thousand words long, and my phone refreshed and it deleted! I was so burned up, I couldn't write again for ages!**

Can I have 65 reviews this time? That's only three! Also, this idea completely and utterly stems from the fabulous Rebyll, thank you so much! If you want to see Clove in this, (I've finally decided what she looks like) and want to see the dress she wears later in the chapter, copy and paste this link into the search bar;

** . **

* * *

Music is lightly spilling out from the docking station by her bead while she sleeps, breath light as a feather.

Me? I haven't slept much, really.

It's a song called Treacherous, I think its by Taylor Swift, and she almost instinctively hums the tune along, even in her sleep.

The three am sky is a deep violet, splattered with a deep, beaten bruise navy, and only a handful of dead light stars are thrown across the atmosphere, glinting and winking at each other.

They throw distorted blue shapes across her arms and legs, staining the moon coloured skin that twitches and edges along crisp, sterile white sheets, littered with scars and battle wounds. It's hard to believe those scars bloomed into their malicious lives only two days after I'd had the pleasure of seeing her in short shorts and a camisole, back when I'd caught her staring at my boxers, back when I sang to her like a cabaret singer.

Well, we found out what happened.

Glimmer.

That bitch.

I couldn't believe it. Clove was interviewed by medical staff as soon as she was strong enough. She didn't want to get her in trouble first, but with hard coaxing from Blye and a reassuring glance from me, she spilt all.

She said their names, told us how they'd practically jumped her as she turned the corner into the street next to Glimmer's own, Tracker Nest Way.

She told us how Glimmer had landed countless punches on her, before Melanie Snow (apparently Glimmer's cousin from C) tripped her up, and the real pain began. She told us how Enobaria strangled her for Glimmer's approval, like a hazing ritual, and how Johanna tried to stop them.

She got knocked out when Glimmer broke her second rib.

The medical assessment we got when we first got here? That was just for starters.

Clove hadn't been awake when those bitches did her arms. Thin, deep, jagged cuts, from her shoulder to her fingertips, broken up into fragments, on both sides.

Apparently, her back is even worse. From the back of her neck, all along the vertebrae of her spine, down to the base of her back, there are meant to be scars, deeper still than the ones on her arms. I didn't look, because I knew if I saw them, I'd have to hunt Glimmer down.

And you know I said about the blood-stained t-shirt she'd been wearing? How there were wounds on her side that Cato had tried to stop bleeding?

She wasn't awake for all of those either.

The ones she was awake for were shallow, where Glimmer had dragged her stiletto down, and it had siphoned the skin. But the ones that really bled? They were intense, deep knife wounds, just like the ones on her spine, her arms. But these were stabbings, ripped down ridiculously malicious and bloody. One was so deep, she was lucky to have survived.

Enobaria damaged her neck and lungs while choking her.

Her collarbone was cracked.

Wrist broken.

Three ribs broken.

Stab wounds.

Glimmer or one of her cronies had obviously brought a pocketknife or something, because that stomach wound nearly killed her.

And let's not forget that her whole body was covered in cuts and bruises.

They made Glimmer come in and apologise her. She pouted and sighed before muttering a "sorry" so fast it was obviously fake. And the minute the adults turned their backs, she snarled at Clove and flipped her off.

I nearly killed her, but it took Clove's frail but reprimanding hand on my forearm to warn me off, but I was that close; that close to flipping out on her. They excluded her and Enobaria, and Melanie, who's eighteen, got taken into the police, apparently she'd done stuff like this before.

I stare at her visible scars now that she's sleeping. Black, ink, purple. They stand out against her skin, most faded to deep dark colours, some still fiery red or shell pink.

I slowly grasp her sleeping hand between my own two, and bring it gently up to my lips, where I kiss it softly, before I let the tears slip out of my closed eyelids, looking at the girl I love damaged like this.

* * *

"Mrs Manner, she will be fine, I've given her some tablets, and as long as you bring her in for her checkup next week, everything is all good." The doctor smiles warmly at a blushing Blye. "Now if you'll just sign this release form, Clove is free to go."

His name's Dalton, the doctor, and he has a warm country accent and a beaming smile. I think Blye has a crush on him, and I'm sure we will be seeing a lot more of him soon, if you know what I mean.

While Blye inks her familiar signature on the dotted line, Clove shuffles around impatiently in the wheelchair which she has to be wheeled out in (hospital procedure).

"And call me Blye." She smiles shyly up at him, and he responds with a caring, sweet grin. She blushes.

"Okay, Blye." He winks. "Y'all need to relax. I prescribe a glass of wine and a dinner that's cooked FOR you."

"You have my number." She giggles.

"I'll call you." He promises, a serious smile on his kind face.

I laugh quietly. I'm happy for Blye, she deserves someone like this after Clove's dad. Clove is trying to stifle her laughter behind her hand as she giggles at her mother's bad flirting. Her ring glimmers in the light. She turned sixteen in the hospital, and I bought her a promise ring. It's a thin silver band, with a small moonstone (her birthstone) in the centre. Clove likes things simple, so I didn't get it overloaded with multicolour fake gems, but because the silver and the moonstones were real, it cost the earth, but it's worth it for her. It's on the middle finger of her right hand. She cried when I gave it to her, and I joked around that she'd gone soft on me, before I kissed her. She laughed.

"Well, what are we waiting for? He said I could go!"

I laugh at the madam and grab the handles of the chair and push her out, running along as she yells with happiness and holds her hands up in the air. She no longer wears a hospital gown, just Capri jeans and a strappy cream blouse, and flip-flops. Her hair is in a fishtail plait down he back as we speed away.

She laughs, and I laugh? And we're so, so alive.

* * *

I straighten up in the mirror. I'm wearing a crumpled shirt, a faded cornflower blue with thin white stripe, with the sleeves rolled up beachily to the elbows, unbuttoned with a white T-shirt underneath. I wear faded blue jeans, and nice shoes. I'm taking Clove out for a celebratory dinner. We had to wait for a week and a half, so she could settle back into he house and everything.

Outside it's warm, bone warming golden sunshine. Yeah, our weather is really messed up.

I go and sweep my hair, trying to look like some of those goofy boys you see online, but I just look stupid, so I stop. Calling out goodbye to my dad, I stroll on out the door over to Clove's place. It's so nice, we decided to walk over, and the restaurant we're going to is on a beachfront near here.

I knock politely on Clove's door, and her mother appears, smiling, on the doorstep. Her dark hair is twirled up in a pretty topknot, her face blushing and sweet, splattered with flour. And look who's arms are around her waist? It's only Dalton, a grin in his face, also covered in cake batter. Fleur and Meghan twitter and giggle at him. It's sweet, to see Blye this happy.

"Hi, Peeta, you look lovely! Clove, Peeta's here!"

"I'll be there in a minute Mom!" She responds.

"You should see her now Peeta, she looks so pretty, so royal and magically beautiful, she is definitely a princess!" Meghan rushes out in one breath. I laugh and ruffle her hair.

Fleur gives me a massive monster smile as they all drift back into the house.

And then she comes down the staircase, and I swear I can hear birds singing or whatever crap movies feed us, that defines what's romantic.

Her long hair is beachy and let down, falling prettily over her shoulders. She has a headband tucked in amongst the strands, a thin red and white checked band, with a bow on top of the same colour. She wears a cream dress, with sleeves that reach down to her arms, patterned with vintage red and squash yellow flowers with little green leaves. It has a nipped in waist, and flutters out in a petticoat. She wears ballet pumps the colour of old blood, and she grins bash fully, her cheeks red.

I slide an arm around her waist and tilt her chin up so her lips meet mine. When we break apart, she gives me one of her stares and tells me off, but we both laugh it off.

"You look beautiful, Clove." I tell her, and she smiles before telling me I'm sappy. She walks along a raised bit of concrete, wobbling and holding her arms out.

She trips and stumbles back onto the ground, pouting and crossing her arms. I laugh and take her hand, and we walk along the cobbles, chattering about nothing and swinging our interlocked fingers.

The sky is a magnificent sunset, a deep blood orange as the sun admires itself in the glassy sea. The sky is a tumbleweed of paint, from deepest pink to that desolate, apricot mixed sort of blue, and the gold tinged cream clouds that scud like boat sails across the horizon.

The air is filled with birds, and they twitter as Clove smiles and listens to their songs.

"Look." She whispers, pointing at a tree. "A Mockingjay."

She begins to whisper a whole textbook of facts about the glossy bird that sings gracefully above us, but I put my finger to my lips.

"Shh. Let go. Just listen, and live it." I whisper.

* * *

When we reach the restaurant, The Pearl, the sky has darkened and the pretty, mismatched lanterns outside have been lit, along with the fairy lights. The Pearl is like a shack, lit up with with yellow light, which houses the kitchen. The seats (colourfully painted picnic tables with soft pillows and beachy blankets) are outside on the beach's scrubby grass and creamy sand, and the warm lanterns and fairy lights create a grotto like effect. It's a very popular place for teenagers.

We're chatting and smiling at our seat when they come.

Enobaria, Cashmere, Glimmer, Brutus, Alex Snow, Titus, and Seneca Crane Jr.

Glimmer stalks over to us, and I glare at her.

"What do you want, Glimmer?

"Oh, nothing... But revenge." She clicks her fingers and before I really know what's happening, Alex Snow has torn Clove from the table, and holds her in place. Brutus grabs me, and twists my arm behind my back and stamps on the back of my knees till I fall to the floor, grimacing.

"Glimmer, she almost died, you bitch! What else do you want to do?"

"ALMOST ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH! SHE SHOULD'VE DIED!" She takes a deep breath, her peroxide curls shaking with rage. She's wearing the most tiny hot pants possible and a bikini top, with big wedge heels. "So today, I'm going to give you the justice you deserve. Both of you. But Peeta, if you want to apologise, you'll be spared. Not her, you." She arches an eyebrow at me, with a flash of what's meant to be a tempting smile.

"Never. I'm Clove's, I will not apologise for being in love with her." I spit out before I realise what I've said.

"Y-you love me?"

"O-of course."

"I love you too." She whispers and we smile at each other before Glimmer screams and breaks the feeling.

"FINE! Have it your way! Brutus."

Brutus pushes me to the floor and puts a foot lightly on my head, just hard enough to keep me there, but light enough so that I can move my chin up to see Clove.

Alex rakes his eyes over her perfect body, and his eyes begin to gleam with skeevy ideas.

"Hey, she's pretty hot."

"Do what you want with her, Al. I don't care." Glimmer chortles.

"Don't mind if I do." Alex grins, and begins to stroke his hands up and down Clove's body. She begins to cry and plead for him to stop.

"Stop, please, anyone but her!" I begin to yell. Brutus and the rest begin to chortle at my fruitless efforts.

I lie still, an idea forming in my mind. Brutus's foot begins to wobble with laughter, so when he least expects it, I press extremely hard against it, until he topples over. I spring up and charge towards Alex, but Titus grabs the back of my shirt and pulling me in reverse. I put up a valiant fight, but Titus is a meaty jock, who works out, Seneca is slimy and clever and Brutus is also huge and has fists of fury. I knock out Seneca and make Titus bleed, but Brutus grabs my arm and winds it back, pinning my spine against his chest so I can't move.

"Continue Alex." Glimmer snorts.

Alex begins to move his hands up and down, and goes to stick his clammy, dirty little hands on her chest but suddenly there's a loud crack and Alex looks bemused before falling, and hitting the floor, knocked out.

Clove sighs in relief, as the mysterious teen behind her smashes Brutus in the nose. He stumbles and lets me go. The dude who saved us wears a dark hoodie pulled low so we can't see his face, his jeans and sneakers non-descript. Brutus rounds on us again, but I bring both my elbows down on his head (I'm very tall) and he spins around dazed, until a final punch knocks him out cold. The vigilante knees Titus in the stomach before hitting him square on the jaw, leaving him reeling in a foetal position on the grass. Just as I'm about to thank this guy, he growls out in a familiar voice that I can't place.

"No you don't." He snarls, and I whip around to see Glimmer holding Clove's arm in a vicelike grip, her nails poised to claw at the delicate skin beneath. He's over there in a flash, and pulls Clove away, pushing her gently towards me.

"Leave." He pleads, albeit gruffly. "I don't want you to get in trouble, and she needs to be safe. Take her, please."

Clove places a soft and tentative hand on his arm.

"Who are you? We must thank you."

He shakes her off sadly, and retreats a few feet, pulling his hood even lower.

"It doesn't matter. Please, Peeta, just take her."

I salute him and scoop her up, bridal style, and dash away.

When we finally get to her house, I drop her down lightly.

"I'm sorry about tonight. I wanted it to be perfect." I whisper, gently touching her cheek.

"I don't know who that was," she replies, looking far off, "But we owe him. We owe him a lot."

* * *

Themockingjayxx- thank you! I hope you like this chapter! Omg same, she is the worst, I actually hate writing her but she's essential in the plot!

Rebyll: Again, I have to say thank you so much for your fabulous idea, it was brilliant, and I'm sorry for not replying to some of your pm's, I've been super busy and keep forgetting to! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH, virtual cookies for you!

HelloKitty2000- You are just such an awesome person! I love your reviews, they always make me smile! Thank you so much! And yeah, I'm going to involve Jess a bit in the next few chapters!

SnowGemsxo- Like I said to HelloKitty2000, you are also awesome! Your reviews really do make my day! I'm updating, please let me know what you think! Geek power!

clato4ever7- I know, I wanted a dark chapter for once! Let me know what you think!

Ninjamaster- Trust me, I live in the UK, if you don't like rain, don't come here! And I thought it was cute ;)

fabina-romione-rebel-lover: Thank you! I hate her too, she is THE worst! I'm updating, let me know what you think!

Kjane2000- Thank you! It is really sad :( I ship them, I think they'd be really cute!

ClatoForEverAndAlways- Thank you! I hope you liked it, let me know what you think!

FlamingArrows- It's so nice to see a new reviewer! Thank you so much, I'm so glad you chose to read this story! It's lovely to have reviews like this, thank you so much!

So sixty five reviews then? Thanks guys, and again, sorry for the delay!


	11. Vermilion and crimson

**Hi guys! So here I am, updating again, like I promised, because you rock! The link apparently didn't copy out, so if you want to know what Clove looks like, pm me for the link! Okay, again this idea goes credit to the amazing Rebyll, who is fantastical and an amazing person with brilliant ideas!**

* * *

My fingers trace the frosted pain of glass in my room, numb shooting up the bone and to the knuckle. It's four thirty in the morning. I don't see the dark velvet sea that calls to me, or the sultry sky.

I see a hoodie pulled low.

A hiss and fists of fury.

A pool of blood on a cold cobbled sheet.

I'm thinking too.

How I might have been the source of that blood, again.

My breath freezes as a group of teens crash out onto the beach. There's a girl with blonde curls.

They've found out where I live.

I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms round myself, sobbing as images flick through my mind.

Icy pain, biting my abdomen.

A crack and crimson pouring from my nostrils.

My eyes too covered with a scarlet haze, like undeveloped film.

Clouds of cherry.

"Bitch." I sob harder. It's Glimmer, her voice distorted and hard. Like in my dreams, sugar pink nails tear at my skin, scratching at my nails till amoeba liquid pours and splatters, draining my life like a river, so meaningless, so beautiful.

Beautiful, beautiful blood.

I should take my blood.

My terms.

I took it out of my skin, before she does.

It's mine, after all.

Not her.

My shaking fingers yank out the drawer, so hard it falls from it's space. She dances around my vision, green eyes, so cruel. She has shark eyes, hard and icy, evil and demonic. Her perfect pink lips hiss at me from ever corner, sniggering at me, spitting out the awful names she called me before, on that street.

"Please, stop." I cry, my voice hoarse and dry as a whisper, sinking to my knees, the wooden drawer clutched in my arms, cutting uncomfortably into my skin, as I rock back and fro, surrounded by her icy stare, the diamonds on her fingers, the room blurred to a mess of coral and sky blue.

My wrists click and swish as the clothing in the drawer fall over my hands.

My fingers close around it.

The pack of disposable shaving razors.

I shouldn't do this.

"I'm going to take it." A hiss in my ear. I snap my head round, to find Glimmer's snarky face inches from mine, lips pulled back in an alligators smile. "I'm going to take that pretty little blood of yours, and you can do nothing about it, Clove. And just to really make you sick, I'm going to drink it. I'm going to make you watch as it stains my plump lips scarlet, watch as a strand of vermillion dribbles out of the corner of my mouth. That's your blood, and you'll know it as you watch me gulp it down."

"Why-why are you doing this?" I stutter, tears staining my face. Is it tears? I think it may be blood. My hands drift upward to trace a trail down my cheek, and when I put my palms to my face, all I can see is red, blood all over my palms, like wine. My eyes flash to Glimmer, she holds a looking glass and holds her nails up, the pink tinged with claret.

"Look at yourself. You are so ugly, Peeta deserves someone so much better than you. Peeta deserves me."

In the mirror she holds, I see thin cuts on the my cheeks, where the blood spittles out. They spell out ugly.

She holds a finger up to her lips, and the carmine liquid that belongs in my cheeks almost- almost- enters her mouth. I let out a whine, and she widens her eyes and gives me a dead and scary smile.

"Go on. Take your own blood, before I do."

I slide out a new razor, shiny and silver. I shiver.

"Do it Clove, I'm taking it, forcefully, unless you do." She sing-songs, and I know she will, I know she will do it.

So I bring it up to the soft flesh of my arm, a little below the crook of my elbow, a little above my wrist.

I drag it across the skin, and it starts to sputter with blood, dark and entrancing. It slithers down into my palm, the gore of my lifeblood transforming into a thick snake, hissing and spitting before curling up in my palm.

I do it again an again, thin lines starting to emerge, new against the fading blackberry cuts that SHE inflicted, body and heart. But it's not enough, and I feel the razor beginning to dull, not splicing the skin fast enough, not as quick enough for me. She could harvest my blood any moment, because I haven't taken it quick enough.

Shaking fingers tear off the wrapper to a new razor, and start to scrape it across my thighs, my legs, my hips. When it's done, I bring my knees up to my chest, shaking and shuddering, sobbing across my already blood stained shorts and vest. My window, slightly open, reveals to me the sound of Madge Undersee's voice, the girl with the blonde curls I saw.

* * *

Clove doesn't wait for me this morning, so on Monday of the last week of school, I walk over to her house and curl my hands around the knocker, rapping it gently, before it swings open, to reveal Clove. She's so skinny, her clothes hanging off here, her ribs visible through her dark t-shirt. Her skin is paler than usual, milk white tinged with a sort of lilacy blue, and grey. Her fingers shake as she pulls the door closed. Her eyes have deep purple shadows under them, like bruises, dark and beaten. Her hair is normal, black and wavy, shining in the early morning light. She wears that old hoodie, but zipped up halfway. She keeps tugging at her sleeves.

"Hey, Clove."

She smiles weakly, says hello, her voice merely a whisper.

"You okay?"

She nods, asks me how I am, but her voice just sounds like she's going through the motions.

We arrive at school, and she sways slightly looking dizzy. Jess strides over, grabs her by the shoulders.

"Clove Manner, what is wrong?"

"Nothing, Jess. I'm fine, just tired."

She looks tired, worn out beaten and damned. Her fingers keep shaking, and she again pulls the cuffs of her sleeves down.

I go to take her hand, and she jolts away, her eyes turning to those of a deer's, large and frightened. She has a look of plain fear on her features.

"S-sorry, Peeta, I-I need to go." She spins and skitters away from me, Jess, Marvel, Katniss and Finn, the latter three just arriving to witness her departure, like we're a pack of starving wolves. All traces of her sleep-deprived, slow, zombie-walk from earlier are gone.

I shake my head at their questions, telling them I know nothing. I run a hand through my silver blonde hair, trying to work out why she acted like that.

It's home room soon, so I head off to my locker to get my books. Smashing the mint blue metal shut in frustration I turn away to shuffle off to registration like the rest of the obedient re-animated good little corpses, when something catches my eye. Cato is glancing around, shoving something into his locker, with all the speed of a Olympic runner. I sneak up behind him, wondering what's going on.

A grey hoodie.

A grey hoodie pulled low over a face, shadowed in the dying sunset sky.

A gruff voice.

A gruff voice telling me to take her and run, caring more about Clove and saving her than anyone else.

"Cato?"

* * *

Ooooh cliffhanger! Again, credit to the amazing Rebyll!

So replies to reviews;

wokeupinwonderland- You found out, well done for guessing! Do you like the story?

Rebyll- Thank you again, so so much! You are amazing, and are definitely the coolest!

- Wow! When I read your review, it made me so happy! I couldn't believe it when I read it! I know, I really hate glimmer, she is the absolute worst! I needed someone to be the antagonist, and I thought Glimmer would be the perfect obsessed, crazy but hypocritical girlfriend! And sorry, but it's not Thresh, although, in the next chapter I plan to involve him in a big way! Spoilers: it's to do with Clove and some of her problems...! You are so, so welcome, thank you for providing me with such lovely reviews to read! And yes, she will be involved, (Spoiler) with the whole Thresh story, and maybe a little with Cato.. You'll just have to wait and see! Thank you so much again, I love reviews like these! You are amazing!

Laura- He was indeed! I know right, it's so frustrating! Do you like the story?

Is seventy reviews okay then guys?


	12. Author Note!

**Hiya guys!**

I just wanted to say I'll be busy for the next few days, because I've just started a new story! It's called His Raven and Her Wolf, and it's a Clove and Gale arena fanfiction! Please take a look! It would mean a lot to me!

Sorry, just thought I should inform you of why I won't be updating for a couple of days! So please, take a look at my new story!

Virtual cookies and love~

14ismyluckynumber xx


	13. Realisations

**HEYYYYY GUYS! Sorry I haven't updated in so long, like I said in the last chapter, I've been concentrating on my new story, His Raven, Her Wolf, and some of you have been so kind to check it out, like the FABULOUS clato4ever7, who has reviewed every single chapter, who is amazing! You should really check her stories out, they're so good! And all the people that have favourited and followed, like Rebyll! Thanks guys, please check it out for me? And, thank you for the amount of reviews I got, they really make my day! Can I have 75 by next time? And please take a look at my other story, it would mean so much to me!**

* * *

The sea is calm and complacent outside, the sun high and dry yellow up in the cotton blue sky. The perfect day.

Lately, not much seems perfect to me.

It's a week into the summer break, but I haven't been out much. Peeta comes over sometimes, sits there and tries to get me to talk to him, to smile or whatever. He can never look me in the eye anymore, so I don't think I'm the only one keeping secrets.

My "secrets" are getting worse. Sometimes, in the day, it's not bad, and she won't come to me, but I'll still be looking over my shoulder to see a flash of sickly cut-glass gem green, or a lock of peroxide blonde. The craziest thing is, I know she isn't real; Glimmer doesn't really sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor at night, wearing tight peach shorts and a baggy white vest on her skinny arms, just us, alone in the diluted dark blue lightless room, her smiling and hissing unrepeatable things in my ear as she bats those doe eyes, tossing those blonde curls. This Glimmer doesn't exist-I'm not INSANE, per say- but that doesn't mean I'm not alone when I reach for those keys to unlock more "secrets" that lay, waiting to be carved into my skin.

My tools, my paintbrushes, per say.

But my canvas isn't paper, or wood, or even grimy buildings in cold hearted cities.

It's my body.

I've done so many I can even tell the origin of each scar, the tool used to create each statue.

Two or four thin lines, all parallel and about a quarter of a centimetre apart? Razor blade.

One line, thick and deep? Blade.

I use them more often, knives.

The cuts are deeper, thicker, last longer, release more endorphins, yada yada yada.

Once its done, she gets worse, tells me how Peeta won't love a girl with scars, because who would?

And that's what terrifies me the most. Him not wanting me.

It's ironic really, because that fear that he won't want me keeps me from taking his hand, holing up in his warmth, even rejecting the offer of touch and human comfort when he tries to reach out, which might drive him away.

I sit there, my cardigan's sleeves pushed up to my forearms, my eyes tracing the markings, a finger occasionally flitting up to touch a painfully crimson slit.

"Clove?" My Mom's voice spirals up the staircase and through the thin wood of my door, and I jump, even though she's down there. Tugging at my cuffs, I wrench the door open and shout down a reply.

"Yes?"

"Will you go to the corner shop, and get a loaf of bread, some Fruit Loops, canned chicken soup and some milk please? We're running low on supplies." She adds, jokingly, and I force out a laugh. It sounds too loud and harsh; overbearing.

"Of course! I'll be right down." Shrugging off my cardigan and exchanging it for my ancient hoodie, I slowly shuffle out of my room and down the stairs, where Fleur and Meghan gab and gossip at the kitchen while making macaroni art.

They are another thing I'm losing touch with; Fleur and Meghan are so pure and innocent, I don't want their minds to be touched by such a dark substance, something so corrupted and sad that it could scar them eternally and lead them to do what I'm doing to myself. I would rather die than that happen to them.

"Here you go sweetie." Mom drops three ten dollar bills into my palm. "Get yourself something as well, okay darling? If you want to go out, just give me a text." She smiles hopefully, an eager grin, because she knows how reclusive I've been lately.

"'Kay, mom." I try to smile brightly, but if just comes out weak and a whisper of my normal one. It seems to placate her, though, and she goes back to supervising the girls.

I trail down the front steps, closing the door behind me, not really paying attention to the kids hanging around on the beach or the boys on skateboards flying past me, taking advantage of the bright sun that makes me shield my eyes. My mom and the girls are so happy right now, with Dalton and everything, so why can't I be? Why can't I snap out of this seemingly endless tunnel of psychosis and that malicious feeling of not being good enough?

"Because you're not good enough." Glimmer sing-songs, deciding to appear and join me. It seems I only have to be alone for five minutes for this to start.

"Nice of you to make an appearance." I hiss under my breath.

"Tut tut, Clovey-wovey," I wince at the name, so similar to what Glimmer addressed me by on that night where she almost-not quite- took my life. "Don't forget how bad I can make you feel."

At some point it-this whole mess of scars and blood and darkness- transitioned from fears of Glimmer hurting me even more to her hissing out all my self conscious musings, to her telling me how awful I am. She's now a seething mass, an embodiment of all my insecurities.

Shaking my head, trying to ignore her, I push open the jangling door of the "Hob", convenience store paradise. The smell of beef jerky hits me, overpoweringly familiar, and I smile at "Greasy" Sae, the toothless old woman who owns it. She's native american and full of traditional tales and some strange recipes, including wild dog stew, and she also sells traditional jewellery. Madge bought a stunning brass broach from her and gave it to Katniss, who wears it everywhere. I bought a shark tooth pendant from her once, inlaid with turquoise. She waves, before carrying on her current activity of stranding beads onto a clear string. I skirt past the alcohol and cigarette counter, and Ripper, the woman who works it, and into the small maze of aisles to get what I need.

"Hey, Clove," A deep voice behind me brays. I'm in the cereal aisle, searching for Fruit Loops. I spin around to see Thresh, looking quite uncomfortable with a loooong shopping list in his hand and a plastic basket dangling off one hoodie-covered arm, almost overflowing. Thresh is pretty cool, I guess, but we never used to get along, since he threw a rock at me in kindergarten.

"Oh, hey, Thresh, you okay?" I try to grin.

"Yeah, I'm okay, how are you?"

"I'm good."

"Look, Clove," he says, running a hand up his bicep nervously. "I heard about the whole thing with Glimmer, how are you doing?"

"Hold on a minute, Thresh, let me just get these Fruit Loops." I smile weakly, already frightened at the thought this subject coming up. Reaching up to get the box, which I located on the top shelf, my fingers close on the red cardboard and bring it back down, letting my feet sink down onto the plastic white flecked floor, and turn around to him. "Now, what were you saying?" I ask, fake brightly, because I know full well what we were talking about. But Thresh is standing, mouth slack, eyes saddened so deeply it makes me want to cry.

"Oh, Clove." He breathes out, and closes his eyes.

"What is it, Thresh?" I ask, stuttering and faltering a bit for I'm baffled by this turn of events.

His eyes open and lead a trail for my own to follow, down to where one sleeve of my hoodie has slipped down to reveal rows and rows of deep, scarlet cuts, jagged and angry.

Why didn't I wear my cardi with the closed sleeves?

My life seems to crumble around me as he just stares at them, the dark, dangerous lines engraved on my arm. I snap out of my trance and yank my sleeve down, my eyes brimming with barely contained hot tears, and turn on my heel, preparing to walk away, when a hand catches my arm and pulls me, albeit gently, back around.

"Hey, Clove. How's about we pay for this stuff and go out for some coffee or something?" He looks worried and intense, eyebrows furrowed in a way that tells me this is not an offer to be turned down.

I'm just shocked he'd even want to try and help me, after what he's seen, now he knows how messed up I am.

So I nod, keeping my head down and not giving him eye contact.

"Thanks, Sae." He says, handing her the change as she gives him back two plastic bags containing his items. I hand her my items-the rest of which I picked up along quickly. Once we've paid, Thresh takes me out to his car, a rusty old truck, similar to Peeta's. We sit in silence on the journey to the cafe, a small, vintage little place called The Oyster and The Pearl. It's cute and we flump into comfy, worn armchairs, before Thresh orders two hot chocolates for us both, and some cookies.

"So," he says, once I've taken a sip of the warm chocolate, "How long have you been doing it?"

I almost splutter out the liquid at his nonchalantness. I know some people would completely flip and yell and scream if they found out, but I appreciate his calmness.

"A-a while, I guess, since we-Peeta and I-could have both been attacked, at the beach."

"She comes to you, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"Glimmer, she comes to you." He stretches a hand across the table and presses it flat against hers. "My sister, Rue, you know her?"

"Rue's one of my best friends."

"She was raped. It was a dark night, she was walking home from Katniss's house. She was five minutes away from us, five fucking minutes away from me." His eyes harden before closing, and he breathes out heavily. "She was wearing jeans and a hoodie, with vans. She didn't dress like a slut or any of that bullshit how girls "just ask to be raped"." He makes quotation marks in the air. "I asked if she wanted me to come over, walk her home, but I didn't really mean it. Peeta, Cato and Finnick were over, and we were playing video games, and she could tell I didn't really want to go, so she refused. Took the chance, and paid for it. He broke her collarbone, punched her almost unconscious when she put up a fight. Someone found her, lying in a pool of her own fucking blood, almost knocked out, and they called me because my mom was out. Finnick and Cato had gone home before we got the news, but Peeta was meant to be staying over. He was brilliant. I owe Peeta, a lot, for staying and helping. A lot of guys would have just left. But he helped. He stayed. So, things beThen, after everyone thought she was healing, thought she was getting better, I walked in on her, when she was doing it. Cutting herself, crying and telling him to stop insulting her, screaming out for him not to hurt her, not to take her blood again. Once she had calmed down, she explained how she had a vision of that bastard, how he would come to her every night and threaten her, and cutting was the only thing that would make him leave."

"Oh." I'm speechless. Rue never told us. She was off for a few weeks but we'd never have guessed. "But yes. She comes for me."

"Does Peeta know?"

I shake my head.

"You need to tell him. For Rue, she needed me to comfort her, help her stop. For you... You need Peeta, Clove."

"But wh-what if he doesn't like me anymore?" I choke out, staring up at Thresh. I don't know what I'm doing, pouring out all my insecurities and fears to someone like Thresh, but after what he's told me, how accepting and eager to help he is, it lulls my lockdown.

"Clove. Trust me, you need to tell him. And if you think he won't like you anymore, you are much mistaken. His eyes only light up when you are around. He loves you, Clove."

* * *

"Okay, I'll be there in five minutes." I press hang up and begin to root through the umpteen piles of clothes that have found home on my blue carpet floor. Clove just called, said she had something to tell me. She's been cold lately. So shy, so nervous, and the pain in her eyes rebounds tenfold onto me when I see how much she's struggling. I wish I could help, but I don't know how to.

I have a secret too.

Cato admitted all to me. I wrestled him to the AV room at lunch, and quizzed him till he opened up.

Turns out Brutus and Titus and all them were all taking the piss out of him for being a virgin, innocent at first, just simple jokes. But things began to take a sinister turn when they began to follow him home, telling him he was gay- well names not so politically correct as "gay" more like "faggot" and "queer". One time, Brutus even jumped Cato, kicked him and spit in his face and called him sickening. Cato didn't even know what he had left to do, so he began to change. Tried to become one of them, talked like them, all the while hating himself with a passion. For a while he floated by, with his head just above the water, but one day he invited all the boys for a sleepover. Finnick, Thresh and I couldn't go, but everyone else did. And when Cato fell asleep, they pulled down his sweats and took pictures of him, naked. They told him if he didn't "do it", so have sex in normal terms, they would paste these all over the town, on his house, the school, everywhere. And when Jess said no, it was going to ruin his life. So he flipped. He never meant to hurt her, never wanted to, but they'd driven him so far that he just snapped. He said he'd never felt more guilty, but he'd never know how to make us forgive him. And when he saw Clove, lying there, nearly dead, he just broke down. He was so worried, so upset he almost went home and did a terrible deed. He almost killed himself.

But he said a text from me to say thank you saved him, made him think people still cared, still liked the real, non-jock version of him. And when he overheard Brutus flirting and planning with Glimmer, he knew what he had to do.

"Bye, Dad, I'm going over Clove's." I yell out, and stumble down the stairs, swinging out the front door and into the setting sky outside.

I get to Clove's pretty quickly, and Blye opens the door.

"Hey, Peeta, here to see Clove?" She smiles.

"Yes ma'am." I nod. "How come Dalton isn't here?"

"He's been called into work on the maternity ward. There's been an influx of people from the thirteenth suburb who are being identified as infertile, and he has to help work out what's going on." She sighs, pushing a strand of raven hair back over her ear. "I sure do miss him though. Well, I'll let you get back to Clove, I've got to go sort out the minxes."

As if by magic, a tiny whistle starts up in the corridor. "Mommmmmmy, can we have s'mores tonight?"

"Better go, sweetie!"

I smile, and jump up the stairs.

"Hey, Clove! I'm here!" I yell, knocking the door before leaning around it. "Hey beautiful." I wink, jumping in. For the first time in a while, she laughs, a genuine laugh.

"Hey, Peeta." She smiles up at me. "I have to tell you something."

"Sure, what's up?" I ask, eyebrows knitting together, as I take her hand. She looks down.

"You'll be ashamed of me. You won't like me anymore."

"Clove, I'd love you forever if you let me."

"Okay." She breathes out, shakily. "I-I guess it'll be easier to show you."

She stands up, and begins to pull up her jumper.

"Woah, Clove, what are you doing?" I ask.

"It's not that!" She manages to get out, muffled by the jumper.

"Okay, what is i-" My voice is silenced when the fabric falls away.

Scars. Tens of them, scarlet and crimson and vermillion, straight and stacked in fours. It takes my breath away. I stand up, and make my way over to her, fingers light as feathers as they trace her skin that isn't covered by the thin vest she has on underneath.

"How long have you been doing this."

"Since we almost got attacked." She bows her head, looks like she's about to cry. "You don't like me anymore, do you?"

I tilt her chin up and smother her misgiving words with a kiss.

"I will find out why, and what reasons you have soon, but not now. Now, I just need you to know that I am going to help you stop. I love you."

* * *

UnseenWonders-aww you so sweet, Leah bear ;)

Chloe Macbeth- Wow! Thank you for reviewing so many times! I'll try to reply as best as I can to all of them. I quite like Finnick anyway, so I wanted to make him show a little more of the sensitive side! I was bored and looking back I probably shouldn't have added so many HP references, but I wanted to see how it would go :) I know, saaaame, Glimmer sucks! But I needs an antagonist so... I wanted to make Clove a bit weak, because she had such an ordeal, but now, things will be cooling down and getting a bit lighter, funnier, and Clove will be well back on her way to beating up Glimmer! Again, thanks for reviewing so many times!

Guest- Sorry, I haven't had much time to update lately, so I'm going to try and start making some longer chapters :) but thanks for reviewing!

IAmHaymitch- Thank you so much! This review really, really made my day. I didn't think I was anyone's favourite! Really, thank you so much, I love getting comments like this. And yes, the first part was legit, but this will be getting funnier, and more upbeat! Really, I know I've said it do many times, but thank you! You are fabulous! I like the fishtails to, it's fun to write about the different styles! Honestly, thank you so much for this review, it was amazing!

HelloKitty2000- That's fine, I don't mind! But thank you for being such an excellent reviewer, you rock!

So, 75 reviews? Will you please check out my other story? And check out "Fangs" by UnseenWonders, it's brilliant! Thanks!


	14. Laughter and Delirium

**Hi guys! I'm sorry I didn't update straight after my 75, but I've been pretty sick! But, I digress, here's the story. Oh, and I must warn you, they're teenagers, so there will be some sexual tension. Nothing too graphic, only a T rating, maximum. Okay, lovelies, get reading!**

* * *

So a week turns into two, which turns to three and a half, and soon it's four months since I've cut. I told Jess, Rue and Finnick; and they were a big help. The little things began to make me laugh again, and the big things almost made me wet myself. The other day, Jess was walking with all of us, Cato, who told us his story and how he saved us, and has been forgiven, Thresh, Finnick, Peeta, Marvel, Katniss, Rue, Delly and me, when suddenly we saw Glimmer sashay around a corner and into the beachside park we were strolling- more like collapsing and laughing and being generally unsteady and inelegant- in, accompanied by Alex, who just the sight of makes Peeta growl, Enobaria, who makes me hiss and glare and Brutus, who is looking like a complete and utter tosser in an "Obey" SnapBack. He is looking like a total douche; he has a new haircut that is short in the back and long and floppy with chocolate brown strands, shaved on the side, a tunnel earring in his ear, a slit in his eyebrow-personally, I think it makes him look like he's moulting, along with the shave in his side- and he wears a camouflage hoodie with the strings tied around his neck but with no short on underneath, and American Eagle jeans. He's had snakebites pierced in the centre of his bottom lip. Talk about trying too hard to be a bloody hipster. Enobaria has died her hair a deep, shaggy violet and has whooshed over her forehead in a big sidefringe, and she wears an oversized Nirvana tee with studded American flag shorts. I wonder if she even knows who Kurt Cobain is...

Aside from their "twitter-famous" styled friends, Glimmer and Alex have taken a much more FaceBook approach. Glimmer is a bright, glowing beacon of orange, and her eyes are streaked with powdery white and metallic pink eyeshadow, and outlined thickly in gloopy, shimmery black, and her lips are sickly baby pink. Her blonde hair is corkscrewed curled, and the bottoms have obvious joins to her extensions. Her outfit is atrocious, a tiny pink leather top, cut above her navel, and a dip to reveal a lot of voluptuous chest, and her shorts bring a whole new meaning to short- they are MICRO. She wears big PVC heels that are covered with shiny stars and big, magenta, heart-shaped sunglasses. Alex just wears hollister shorts and flip flops, nothing else- bleuchhhh (shiver).

"Whore." I snarl, but they're too busy and too far away to hear me. Brutus is doing unspeakable things to Glimmer, his hand basically down her shorts as they lean up on the old, many branched tree. Enobaria was moaning and hissing as Alex attacked her neck with kisses, and I literally have to shove my head against a tree to stop my laughter at their openness, along with most of the others.

"Oh, look, Brutus," Glimmer gasped, pulling herself out of his grasp. "It's the bitch of the west."

Even though I hate her, I must applaud that name, it was very innovative.

They all crack up laughing, while my friends just stand stock still and glare at them, basically burning them with their eyes.

"Haha, Glim, babe, you are HILARIOUS." Brutus guffaws, wiping away a tear of laughter from his eye.

"Hey, Clove, attempted an "Amanda Todd" yet? You should, you know! Scum like you doesn't deserve to live!" Glimmer screams, and while her posse giggle and snort, mine falls completely silent.

Until Jess inherits that red-head temper for the first time in her life.

"Yo', slut-bag!" She yells, stomping over to them, auburn curls fluttering in the tiny warm breeze.

"You talking to me?" Glimmer spits, albeit sweetly, tossing her peroxide curls and laughing quietly to her friends like its the most difficult thing in the world to imagine that someone would consider talking down to her.

"Yes, I am."

"What do you want, Foxface?" Glimmer hissed, pine coloured eyes looking down at her with utter disdain from over her perfect ski jump nose, using her cruel nickname for Jess. A bright crimson blush spreads across her cheeks, and her eyebrows furrowed together as an ugly look of anger walked onto her features.

"THIS." She yelled, before pulling her arm back and pushing her fist into Glimmer's face, hard, more forceful and supposedly painful than I surmised Jess could do. She's normally so quiet and compliant, I didn't think she would do something like this.

"AND DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FRIEND AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME, YOU HOE?" She screams, high pitched and funny, before stalking off and pulling us along with her, too shocked to even say anything. When we finally crash out on the rough, raggedy beach, Peeta is the one to sum it up.

"Well that was fucking awesome." I laugh because he doesn't swear much, and my life seems to be starting to click into place, back to the way it was before, and for the first time in a while, I am truly, truly happy.

* * *

"Honey, I'm going to be back quite late tonight. I'm going out with Dalton to make up for all the time he's been staying in the office. But, we have ice cream in the fridge, and Meg and Fleur are on separate sleepovers, so you're off duty tonight. Invite Jess or Peeta over or something, okay?" She places a powdery kiss on my cheek, and I can smell violet and lily perfume drift around. It makes me smile how happy she is with Dalton, and how date night for her is a regular thing. "I won't be back before one. We're going out to C, so it'll take a while."

"Have a nice time, mom. Say hi to Dalton from me."

"I will! Bye, sweetie!" She giggles, and hurries out the door. Her hair is sleek and silky down her back, and she wears a pretty, fancy dress. All of a sudden she's gone, and I'm left alone in the house. Slamming my new birthday iPhone into the dock, I press shuffle and blast it loud, shimmying around my house to Panic At The Disco's Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes off (phew), before picking up the house phone and dialling Jess.

"HEY!" She giggles into the phone.

"'Sup, cheese."

"Bleurgh to you."

"You want to stay over tonight? Mom's out so home alone."

"Hells to the yes! But I won't be able to come over till half ten. Dinner with the extended fancy family."

"I can practically feel you rolling your eyes. Bring popcorn and marshmallows."

"What am I, your bitch?"

"Yes. Bring them. Byeeee."

"SO LONG!"

I hang up and dial Peeta.

"Hey, Draco."

"'Sup, Hermione?"

"Fancy coming over? My Mom's out until late and I have some time to kill before Jess gets here. Precisely four." I say, trying to irritate him.

"Am I your backup, Clove Manner?" He asks, teasingly.

"Yes." I deadpan.

"Well." He asks, mock hurt.

"Just hurry up and get here, Malfoy."

"I am sprinkling floo powder in the fire place at this precise moment."

I roll my eyes and savagely press the end button, before stomping up the stairs my bedroom with some snacks, and collapsing on my armchair. I crack the window open and then grab my new book, Life Of Pi, and curl up.

I hear the door open downstairs.

"Clove?" I hear Peeta shout.

"Bedroom."

I hear the heavy footsteps of Peeta trudge up the wooden steps until suddenly my door is flung open.

"The entertainment... HAS ARRIVED!" He jumps in, giving me jazz hands, and I snort and smother it with a chocolate toffee cookie.

"Stop acting like a stripper, sit down." I indicate the comfy cranberry coloured armchair next to me. Flopping inside, he grabs three cookies and a can of orange fizz, before shoving all three biscuits into his mouth.

"You know you love me as a stripper, if your face when I take my shirt of is any indication."

I splutter out my fanta as I feel my cheeks heat up.

"I told you! I told you!" He catcalls, doing a little victory dance.

"Two words. Pyjama shorts." I manage to spit out and his eyes go wide.

"Oh shut up!" He stutters.

But I don't shut my mouth and he starts to move closer and closer until our lips are sealed.

It's intoxicating because my fingers are in his hair quickly enough as the kiss deepens, and I'm basically sitting on his lap with my legs semi wrapped around his waist but kind of crumpled uncomfortably, but I don't really care.

His teeth graze my bottom lip, begging me entrance, which I grant almost immediately. We melt into each other and I can't think straight as I bite his lip and he moans into my mouth, or how he ever-so-gently touches the tip of his tongue to the roof of my mouth makes shivers slither down my spine.

Soon enough he's standing and holding me upright and we break apart for the quickest of moments for breath. I lean gently out of his arms and he stares at me sadly, but I just grab the collar of his shirt and pull him after me, so we land with a soft flump on the mattress, him on top of me. My lips flutter lightly to his neck, butterfly kissing up from the collarbone to the join between his earlobe and his jaw. I suck gently, not enough to leave a hickey, them blow cold air lightly on it. He gasps and then suddenly his lips are back on mine. I'm lost in the taste of that apple bubblegum that he so frequently chews, and the smell of the forest and warm bread that he always smells of, so entranced in this kiss nothing else registers in my mind. My hands scrabble at his Ralph Lauren polo, and he whips it off himself to reveal that toned six pack stomach that makes me drool.

I carefully run my hands over it and he throws his head back with some unknown emotion before his lips find their way back to mine, again. Oddly and cliche-ly enough, Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran has come up on shuffle and we're here, like this. His hand tugs a little on the hem of my cream vest top, cautiously, like I might react, but I'm so engrossed in all of this I just pull it off distractedly and his breath catches in his throat as he stares at me. I just deal my mouth to his again, and ever so slowly yank a little on one of the belt loops of his jeans.

"Uh, Clove, uh, I have to go." He pulls back, stuttering and bright red as he clambers off me and grabs his shirt.

"What?" I ask, still a little dazed.

"I have a little, uh, problem." He turns around and jerks his tee back on. He takes his hoodie and sort of dangles it in front of his legs before turning to face me.

"Sorry. Bye, Clove."

"But Pe-" I begin to splutter, but he's already gone, leaving me to lie on my bed, confused and a little bit weirded out.

* * *

Hehehehehe, sexual tension ;)

UnseenWonders-Bleurgh to you.

clato4ever7-congrats ;)

HelloKitty2000- can I just say how much your reviews make me smile? Really, thank you for taking time to say so many nice things to me!

fabina-romione-rebel-lover- It's cool, don't worry! I shall indeed, don't worry! What did you think of this chapter?

So can I have 80 reviews? Thanks guys!


	15. Cabin-um-I guess you can call it fever

**HEYYYYY GUYS! Right, I'm guessing you didn't like the sexual tension, because the reviews didn't come in fast :( but I thought it needed to be added in there because like they are teenagers and stuff... There will be some more but not as graphic as before! Can I have 85 reviews please?**

* * *

I shut the door to Clove's house behind me as I stumble down the front steps, gulping down the fresh sea air. The sky is thick, gauzy navy at the top, fading to thin green ribbons spattered with aqua blue. It's a magical sky; sprinkled with silver stars, like a Disney film. But I'm really not concentrating on the stars right now. I'm more drawn to what just happened, and my little, ahem, problem.

"Fuck, Peeta, what are you doing?" I moan out to the sky, throwing my hands around the back of my head.

I know who I need to talk to about what happened- Finnick.

Dashing back to my empty house (my Dad's out with some of his buddies), I pick up my phone, recoiling on my bed like a snake, punching in my best friend's number.

"Hello, you got Finnick."

"You are such a douchebag when you answer the phone, Finn."

"Well, nice to hear from you too, Peeta."

"Listen, dude.." I sigh, pushing a hand back through my hair. "I need you to come over, something happened. You free? You can stay over."

"Hold on, bro, I'll ask my Mom.." The phone crackles as he drops it from his ear, and I can hear a muffled conversation as he presumably asks his mom. "Yeah, that's cool with her. I'll be over in five." I'm grateful he doesn't mention that I told him something's wrong; he's in the same room as his Mom, and I know he'd laugh if I told him, then she'd get suspicious, and that is something I could REALLY deal without.

I realise I'm lying in the dark so I jump up and turn the light on, and for a second it burns my eyes because it's too bright.

Right, my main priority is to get rid of my problem before Finnick gets here, which will be in about five minutes. Think of unappealing stuff Peeta, stuff that turns you off...

Glimmer naked? No, not working.

Mrs Trinket naked? Nada, I still keep seeing marble smooth skin, and... Oh god, turquoise and cocoa lace...

Dead puppies? Her fingers on my chest...

Car crash? My hands on her body...

I gulp, and know I'll have to bring out the big guns. It's sick and everything, and I'm already feeling pretty ashamed of myself already , but I NEED this to go down, so here goes nothing.

My beautiful girl, lying half dead on the snow, crimson and scarlet and vermillion everywhere.

Okay, done.

Wow, I am a fucking psychopath.

But, she literally turned me on so much I had to picture her almost dead to get me to you know... Like, um, never mind, anyway, that's a good thing, isn't it? That she got me THAT excited?

"Peeta?" That's Finnick, right on time. His shout echoes up the staircase and I am VERY relieved he didn't get here two minutes ago.

"Bedroom!" I yell back, and I am reminded of myself an hour or so earlier, innocently walking up to her bedroom, not aware that tonight was to be full of the most amazing feelings ever AND the most embarrassing feelings ever.

"Here's Finnick!" He smiles, and jumps in, crashing out on my sofa, lying in a plank shape on the cushions.

"Hey, man. Want a soda?"

"You know I do!"

I shake my head, laughing, and delve in the mini-fridge by my bed, pulling out two sodas; orange for me and grape for him. I toss his over, and he catches it with almost ballet-like precision. I tease him about it for five minutes, until he threatens to beat me with the can,so I stop but stick my middle finger up at him.

"Hey, we ordering pizza?" I ask once everything's calmed down.

"HELL TO THE YES! Meat lovers, stuffed crust?"

"You know it!"

Once everything has been taken care of, we're sprawled across my room, both chomping on pizza overly loudly, listening to a mix of You Me At Six, Ed Sheeran, Mumford & Sons and Panic! At The Disco. I'm feeling a lot better than earlier, but I'm lying if I say I am able to stop thinking about bed-messed curls and her hands on my hips...

"So, bro, what's up?"

"Well..." I start to stutter, suddenly unaware how to start this conversation.

"So, it's to do with Clove." He says, nodding and chewing on a big bit of chorizo.

"How do you know these things, man?" I splutter out.

"Ah, I just do. So what's the problem, kiddo?"

"Well, I went over her house, and we were laughing and joking for a bit, when suddenly, we got closer and closer and then we were making out, proper making out, like she was sitting on my lap and everything. And like, we've made out before but not like this; this was passionate, and insanely hot, and then she's dragging me to the bed, and she did this thing where she kissed my neck and then my shirt was off and her hands were on my chest and then.." I choke out, all in one breath, and my voice stutters as I start to say the next part, breaking as I remember it. "She took her s-sh-shirt off, and oh my god Finn, it was just insane, and then we were making out again, and her hands went to the top of my jeans... And she pulled on a belt loop, but as she did, she sort of unknowingly... like.. um.."

"Ground herself against you?"

"Yeah, and it was insane, the friction was just amazing, it felt so good, and I was moaning and she was too and then I realised... I had a boner, so I freaked out because I could tell where it was going, and I bolted."

"Ahhh, the first-time, awkward, sex. I know it's scary and that, but at the risk of sounding like Cato in the old days, dude, if Clove was half naked and almost begging for it, why the fuck did you run away?" He gives me a wink, and gulps down, swallowing the last of his mozzarella crust.

"I don't know, man. I definitely didn't want to. Run away, I mean. You should of seen the underwear she was wearing. Matching turquoise lace, with a strip of chocolate coloured lace. God, it was hot, bro. But it's gonna be her first time, and I wanted to make it special. I didn't-I didn't want to hurt her, didn't want her to regret it. Does that sound all soft?" I ask him. It does feel kind of better to get it out.

"Nah, man, I feel you. Just cause you want to make it nice for her doesn't make you a sap. Makes you a good boyfriend. Also, I know your pain with the lace. Jess has this pink and green set, and it is pretty hard to control myself around them." He tells me, then drains the last dregs of purple from the grape soda, tossing the can into my trash can.

"Hey, Finn, can I ask you something?" I ask, stretching out on the covers, almost banging my skull on the headboard of my bed. I grab another slice of pizza, as does Finn.

"Sure, man, shoot." He replies after a small silence of contented meaty chewing.

"Have you and Jess, y'know, fucked yet?"

"Wow, way to put it bluntly, Peeta. And yeah, we have, as a matter of fact." He stretches an arm behind his head, trying to act nonchalantly, but I can see the smug little smile on his face from my shocked reaction.

"Oh my god, way to go brother! Why didn't you tell me? Was it good? Did she like it? How many times have you done it?"

"Woah, slow down on the questions Peeta!"

I hang back and blush a deep red.

"It was amazing, by the way. Best thing EVER. It hurt her a bit at first, but by the end she was screaming my name and everything. I still have scratch marks on my back. We've only done the full thing once, but we've done some other things."

"Like what? No way did she do what I'm thinking of!"

"Is it a number?"

"No... But come to think of it, did you do that?!"

"Nah, too far, and that always kind of disgusted me anyway."

"Well, I was thinking of two letters, actually. The first one is the second letter of the alphabet."

He turns away, so I know they did that.

"No fucking way dude. You are so lucky!"

He laughs.

"Peeta, don't act like Clove won't put out. She did tonight and you bolted!"

"Man, give it a rest. When did you and Jess do the dance with no pants?"

"I took her out for a beachside picnic on the 12 o'clock beach." He's talking about an isolated cove surrounded either side by two cliffs, only accessible by boat, one of which Finnick has. It's in a sort of ring with eleven other similar quays, so they call it the clock face. Although thy shouldn't be too popular because of the trouble it takes to get there, they are, because of the tranquility of the place. 12 o'clock is the smallest one. "And the sun was setting and suddenly she leans over and kisses me, full on the mouth, tongue and everything. It was a pretty quiet day for the clock face- only us, three and ten were taken, so no-one could see us. And suddenly all I know is we're laying on the picnic blanket, with a condom Jess brought, doing it. It was weird and hastily brought on, but incredible. And I know this sounds all sappy and that, but what made or even better was the fact that my first time was with her. Jess, the girl that I love."

"Man, you are just... I don't even have the words."

"Wow, Peeta at loss for words. Yo, can I ask you something?" He doesn't wait for my answer. "Didn't you ever do anything with Glimmer?"

I shake my head no, my mouth full with cheesy goodness.

"See, I thought you would've. Glimmer isn't exactly Virgin Mary."

"She wanted to, but it just didn't feel right with her. Plus, last week, I found out Brutus was positive on a chlamydia test. So we know who that came from."

"That's brilliant! But dude, seriously now, you know you want to do it with Clove. You gotta realise how much that girl loves you. She won't regret it."

"Thanks, Finn. I'm still going to try make it special though."

"You got to man, I did it with Jess, beachside picnic, isn't it? That's pretty romantic." He looks out my window to the freezing sky outside. "Where did Summer go? One minute it's July and now it's November."

"Dude, it wasn't exactly one minute. It was four months, bro."

"Yeah, I know, I know. You hear about the snow that's coming in?"

"Again? It only seems like a week ago we went to Jess's Uncle Haymitch's."

"I know, man. Anyway, there's a resort up in the mountains. My uncle owns a cabin there. S'real fancy. Classy, y'know? Snow, skiing, fireplace and all the fixings, as well as passes to the main hotel and spa, and the ski runs themselves. Well, he's going away, so I'm allowed to go up there with seven other friends in Christmas break. Mom trusts me and all now. You and Clove up for it? Jess, Marvel and Kat are all coming. I'm asking Thresh and Cato too."

"I know I'm up for it. My dad'll be okay. I can't speak for Clove though, Finn."

"Jess is sleeping over hers tonight. She's gonna ask her and let me know through text."

"Cool."

"Cool."

* * *

"That's weird, isn't it? D'you think I did something wrong, Jess?"

The redhead is spread out across my floor and various flumpy, marshmallow-like pillows, as am I , only half watching-well quarter watching- some Katherine Heigl film called Life As We Know it, more talking about what happened.

"I think he just wanted your first time to be special, like Finnick did for me."

"You and Finnick went all the way?"

"Yeah."

"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! Jess, why didn't you tell me?!"

"I just kind of forgot, I guess."

"Was it really that unremarkable?"

"Oh hell no, most amazing feeling EVER."

"So, how did it happen?"

She explains to me all about the twelve o'clock cove, and how he told her she was beautiful and held her tight in his arms when it hurt at first.

At the end, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

It sounds magical.

I'm still obsessing over what happened with Peeta. I'm so confused; he seemed like one minute, he was enjoying himself, a lot, and then the next minute he was running from my room, with crossed legs and red cheeks. It was odd, and I find myself PRAYING that Jess's theory is true.

"So, you coming skiing?"She asks, breaking my contemplative silence with a question that leaves me stumped.

"Skiing?" I question, giving her one of my confused stares.

"Oh shit, I forgot to tell you! Finnick's uncle has got a luxury cabin up in a ski resort and spa up in the mountains, and there's enough room for eight people. Well, his uncle's going away in winter break, and gave Finn the keys. He's allowed to take seven other people, go up to the mountain and ski; chill in the house, go to the exclusive spa, all that jazz. Katniss, Marvel and I are already confirmed to come, and Finnick just text me Peeta can come. He's asking Thresh and Cato too. Can you come?"

"I'll just text my mum, ask her. Sounds amazing!" I gush, already imagining a purple sky and snow capped mountains.

"Oh, apparently it isssss." She tells me, rolling her s's to sound all posh and foreign. I give her a look and she laughs, poking me in my stomach. "Oh come on. I sounded magical. And anyway, Finnick's been there before, and apart from all the "amaaaaazing" ski stories that I get," She tells me, making air quotations around the amazing, letting me know they weren't amazing at all but insanely boring and boyish. I know how she feels; Peeta is the same, full of surf stories that sound totally untruthful. "Where he always seems to jump off a eight foot ramp and land with three mid air spins, before rescuing a little kid from underneath the snow, then finishes off by having a drink with David Hasselhoff at the bottom of the hill, he told me the house is unreal, as well as the hotel. I'm so excited! It's going to be sooooo fun. I can't wait!"

I'm about to reply with some equally girly squeal to match Jess when my phone vibrates under my tummy with a text.

**Mama bear**

**Hey honey! Yeah, tonight is going great, thank you. And that's perfect, tell Finnick and his Uncle thank you so much. I was planning on taking the girls somewhere with Dalton after Christmas day, and you probably don't want to be stuck with us. Okay, see you later! **

**Mom xx**

She always writes Mom at the bottom, even though her name is on the contacts. But it's good news- I'm going! I tell Jess and we have a five minute screaming session, yelling about what we're going to wear, how we need to call Kat for a get together and a plan, etc, until she pipes up about texting Finnick.

"I promised I'd let him know. We may as well just ring him."

I nod and she starts to press the buttons on her phone, while we curl up at opposite ends on my bed. She lays the phone down in the middle at we lie facing towards it, waiting for Finnick to answer.

* * *

"What!" I shout at Finnick victoriously, holding up my arms in the air and doing a lame little victory dance. I just totally kicked his ass at paper toss in my bedroom, landing my scrumpled up piece of paper perfectly in my trash can. "Your turn, but I highly doubt you can beat that."

"Oh haha, sorry for being suckish, your majesty, king of paper toss. Want me to get down on my knees and worship you?" He doesn't wait for my answer as his phone starts ringing. His iPhone screen starts shining and vibrating with the various keypad options and a picture of Jess smiling at something beyond the screen, with her name and various emojis next to it, that I'm guessing she put on there. It's a nice picture, the one in the background; her red hair is glowing in the hazy sunset light, streaked with gold, sand and a glittering blue ocean stained peach shining behind her. She's wearing a bikini, and looking at him from over her shoulder. I wonder if that was taken the day they did it.

"Let me just get this bro. Wait, I'll put it on speaker." He presses accept and jumps over onto my bed, where I sit, back pressed against the headboard. He props himself against the wall on the side, flings the phone down on the sheets.

"Hey, baby girl." He says, smiling, then realises I'm here and turns a bright red.

"Hey, sweetie." She sing-songs, and his smile widens.

"What's up?" He asks and his fingers twitch as if he itches to reach out and grab the phone.

"Nothing, I'm just ringing to say that Clove can come. Say hi, Clove!"

"Hey, Finnick, how's it going?"

"Good, Clove, that's ace you can come. As a matter of fact, I'm sleeping over Peeta's right now!" He adds, grinning evilly at me because he knows how awkward this will be.

"Hey, babydoll." I say smoothly, just to prove Finnick wrong that I won't be all stupid and stuff. I can practically hear her blushing through the phone; she loves it when I call her babydoll. Jess giggles loudly and Finnick looks impressed.

"Hey yourself." She says, and her voice cracks, so I know she's thinking of earlier, as am I.

"I need to talk to you, later, okay, babydoll?" I almost sing, trying my hardest to be sweet and even start to make it up to her.

"Okay, and Peeta?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Stop talking like that in front of Jess and Finnick, you're acting like a s-stripper." She starts the sentence so cocky and confident, but she stutters on the last word, and I suspect she, like me, is remembering the words she laughed out at me, before the whole business of everything happened.

"O-okay, I'm sorry." I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up. Finnick looks at me and then the phone then back at me, eyes wide as saucers.

"Clove, what's that about?! Is it to do with earlier?" Jess squeals, trying to whisper, but still audible through the speaker. Finnick slaps a palm to his forehead.

"Jess, baby, we can still hear you." He tells her.

"Oh god! Sorry!" She exclaims, and Finnick snorts with laughter. It's getting silent and verrrrrrry awkward.

"Okay, we're going now, the tension over this phone is almost tangible. Bye Finn!" Jess squeaks, Clove sniggering in the background, pressing the hang up button. I turn to face Finnick who is ogling me like I'm a new experiment and he's a biologist.

"What happened with the word stripper, man?"

* * *

The bell peals and screams through the halls, and I fling my pencil case in my bag, jumping up and pulling it onto my shoulder. For once, I'm not in a hoodie; I have on emerald green skinny jeans and comfy brown UGGs, and a tight-ish, clingy navy"indie" jumper with all christmassy patterns on it. The halls and classrooms are festooned in tinsel and hung with mistletoe; I should know, it seems every five seconds Peeta is appearing from nowhere and snaking an arm around my waist and giving me a kiss, claiming it to be "a holiday tradition" and that it would be "wrong and immoral" to refuse. They always deepen, the kisses, to the point of being not-so-innocent; we never really ended up talking about the incident, choosing instead to carry on as if nothing happened, but it's always there in the back of my mind. I try not to think about it.

Five days till Christmas!

Then, on the twenty seventh, seven days from now, complete skiing bliss, featuring Swiss miss hot chocolate and cosy fireplaces and cuddling with Peeta.

I cannot wait.

"Bye, Katniss, bye Jess! See you tomorrow! One at the diner, right?" I ask, giving them a small wave and a big smile as I exit the lab.

Seriously, last lesson before Christmas break, Chemistry? Who comes up with these lesson plans?

I kiss Peeta goodbye, a lingering one with a bit of tongue, (wink) because he's going off to go see a football game over Finnick's house, with Marvel.I drag my teeth over his soft bottom lip, just grazing lightly, and he moans into my mouth, making me smile smugly. I push him away, laughing at his sad, puppy dog face.

"You, my friend, are a tease." He whispers into my ear, his breath cold, making me shiver.

"LOOK AT PEEEEEETA, gettin' L-UH-C-KYYYY!" Marvel wolf whistles, clapping his hands.

"Oh get a room! C'mon Peeta, we want to go get food from the Hob first. MOVE IT, boy!" Finn barks, pulling him away, leaving me alone as I whip out my I-pod. I don't bother to put two earbuds in, just the one, nodding my head to Hey Ho by the Lumineers, one hand on the join on my tan satchel where the strap meets the bag. I pull out my white gloves, my grey scarf and my grey ear muffs, slotting the mittens on my hands, tying the scarf round my neck and plopping the ear muffs on my head. It's pretty cold; snow is everywhere apart from here, being cleaned up to prevent a hazard for the children in the Elementary school across the way. Yesterday, Dalton and I took Meg and Fleur to get their presents for Mom. Today, I'm going to go get my own, have a nice look around. Mom's shift has ended by now, so I might get her some jewellery from A Flip Of A Coin. Everything is silent as I get further away from the school, the snow muffling sound like a big, oblong, slightly squished out pair of noise cancelling headphones. Snowflakes land on one of my outstretched palms, one by one, each tinily detailed and full of minuscule perfection. The smell of cinnamon and apple drifts out the window of a house I'm passing; a mother holds her child's hands as they cook together near the window. The road I'm on is sweet, very quaint; pretty little white houses with navy trim, covered in heaps of powder, which in turn is falling on the cobbled street beneath. They have tasteful decorations; a small string of glowing lights along a leaf gutter, or some icy blue fairy lights strung over the liquorice black branches of dead winter trees. You wont see any brightly festooned houses with a Santa riding on a flashing sleigh along the roof here. Its a paradise for children; three little girls are making a sweet pair of snowmen, one a girl with twig hair, while a pair of ten year old boys are taking it in turns to bury each other in the snow. I take a left turn into the main street, and it's full of people milling about, arms dangling with bags of presents and boxes of red, gold and green wrapping paper. I slip in the jewellery shop, rammed full of husband's frantically searching for something for forgotten wives, and Venia, my Mom's best friend and fellow shop assistant, smiles at me.

"Hey Clove! Mom's Christmas present?" I nod and smile. "You wanna come on out the back, honey?" She asks, sliding open the little wooden door cut out of the counter, ushering me through. Once we're in the cool grey storage halls and away from the hustle and bustle, I give her a big hug, ask her how she's been.

"I'm fine, sweetie, as always! How are you doing, sugar?" Venia helped Mom a lot when the whole Glimmer issue happened. She knows the whole story.

"Yeah, I'm going good. How are Maxie and Freddie?" I ask, referring to her children; they're the same age as our girls, Freddie seven, and little Maxie (she's a girl) five. Maxie's Fleur's best friend, and Meghan and Freddie always go a bright red whenever they're in the same room together.

"They're all good, darlin'. Now, let's get you some options."

After I decide on a beautiful set of silver earrings inlaid with shimmering petal pink mother of pearl, she places them out perfectly in a cream box, on a layer of crunchy black tissue paper, sprinkles lavender around them, and ties the box up with a black silk ribbon, making a perfect bow. I hand her the money I saved up, and she places the box in a cream paper bag with black silk drawstrings. I smile and slip back out over the counter, grinning and winking at Venia, before bursting out the door into the cold air. I decide to walk back home the long, scenic route, through Eleven Park, full of all the pumpkin patches in the autumn and wheat in the spring, all dead now and covered in white, around the old shack in by the lake, and five minutes by the sea, then home. I stroll quite contentedly, watching thin winged birds peck at solid, frozen ground, still managing to find a worm or two, catching a glimpse of a vividly scarlet fox disappearing between the ivory laced old oak tree, as bright and dangerous on the pure white snow-a bloodstain on bed sheets. It's beautiful, but on the whole uneventful, until I reach the old shack.

Katniss showed it to us. The fireplace still works and everything; all the windows are still in, apart from one, which has a large shard of glass splintered out of it, and the door still works, strong on its hinges. The lake is hidden, and you have to go round a particularly maze-like bush until you find it, but it's beautiful, especially now, frozen and sparkling in the weak sunlight.

It's there I hear the noises.

"Oh god, you're a good kisser." Someone moans, loud enough to be heard through the shattered glass of that one window. It's a boys voice; someone familiar too, but I can't quite place it. "Oh god, keep kissing there, on my collarbone, yes, _FUCK_ yes!" He gasps, and I make a weird, twisty-mouthed face, because this dude needs to keep a lid on it, man.

"Kissing's not all I'm good at." A deep, male voice croons back. Hey, I'm not judgemental, if you're gay, good for you, it's your choice, I'm not going to treat you differently. But all I'm saying is, someone could hear them if they keep being this loud, and that someone could not be very accepting.

Both voices are familiar and I just can't place them.

"Threshhhhh." The first one breathes out, and that answers my question about who the second one is. "Kiss me more, stop being such a goddamn tease." The unknown voice growls, commanding but tender, and suddenly it hits me.

"Cato?" I exclaim, louder than I meant to. Well, actually, I didn't mean to even say it out loud.

There's a rush of movement from inside the shack and suddenly the door bangs open to reveal a frightened-but-pissed-off Cato, clutching his shirt in his hand, revealing golden, toned muscle. Behind him is a wide-eyed Thresh, fully clothed.

"Oh, it's just Clove. SHIT, Clove!" Cato shouts, trying to cover himself up.

"No way. Are you two a couple?" I ask, still a bit shell shocked, not about Cato, because I've always known he was gay, he told me he thought he was when we were twelve.

I am a bit at Thresh, always thought he had a crush on Delly, but life goes on. No, I'm shocked because they're out here, not together in front of us, their friends, and I had to find out like this.

"Well, no, I'm not gay, Thresh isn't gay, we're boys and best friends, that's it..." Cato garbles, hands twitching, eyes dull like he's reciting a mantra. "Being gay is wrong. It's sick."

"Cato... It's Clove. She's safe." Thresh soothes him, brushing a hand lovingly on Cato's bare bicep.

"Cato?" I bray, soft and gentle, like soothing, as if speaking to a frightened doe. "Are you with Thresh?"

"Yes." He says, almost whispering it, before he lifts his head and smiles, looking at Thresh. "Yeah, I am."

"My big brother!" I squeal and fling my arms around him and hug him right. "I'm so pleased for you!" I give him a big kiss on his forehead.

"And Thresh, take care of him, alright? If you hurt him, I have no qualms about hunting you down." I give him a wink to let him know I'm joking. "Right, Cato, you put your shirt on, we're going inside, Thresh, you better have that fire on, I'm freezing. We are going to have a talk."

Thresh smiles and stomps back inside, leaving Cato to tug on his blue polo-shirt.

"Man, Clove, when did you become such a cockblock?"

"You are disgusting. Now, turn your ass back around and into that shack."

Once we were all seated on a threadbare rug by a flickering, shivering fire, I give them a stern look.

"So, how long exactly have you been together?"

"Three months, Mam." Cato chuckles.

"Don't you get sassy with me. And three months? Cato? Why didn't you tell me?" I start to stutter, feeling my eyes mist up at the lack of trust.

"Hey, hey now, Clove, don't cry. We wanted to; but we're-I'm scared. Remember what Brutus did to me? And he didn't even know for certain I was gay."

"Do you think we would care? Do you honestly think Peeta and Finnick and Marvel and Katniss and Jess would care? Or I would care? We just want you to be happy! The boys only really care of you got lucky, it doesn't matter to the them if it's with a boy or a girl. We love you, Cato, and you too, Thresh. We just want you to be open and trusting with us. That's all." I give him a hug, and then open my arms even wider to try fit Thresh in.

"Right, we're having a gang meeting in Finnick's house and you are going to explain this to everyone, okay? And I know you might be scared and chizz, but I'm going to be right here beside you."

* * *

"Merry Christmas, babydoll." I whisper to Clove once her mom leaves to take Dalton and the girls for a ride to look at the lights around town, snaking my arms around my girl's waist and planting kisses all the way from her jawline to her neck. Pulling her backwards onto my lap in the red armchair I sit upon, I place soft, gentle kisses on her perfect petal lips. She shivers and her hands weave into my hair, and we're kissing and it's oh, oh so good. We break apart for air and she leans her forehead on mine before handing me a present, wrapped in pretty cream paper with red ribbon.

"Merry Christmas, Peeta." she almost purrs, and I groan as she attacks my neck with lingering kisses as my fingers fumble with the wrapping paper, trying to open it.

There's a blue Ralph Lauren polo that I liked before, along with Ralph Lauren cologne, and a plain white envelope.

I give her a questioning look.

"Just open it!" She commands, rocking away from me and my neck, landing on the floor and sitting cross-legged, staring up at me with expectant eyes.

"Okay, okay!" I smile at her childishness and pull open the seam. In there are two tickets, with shimmering holograms and the name BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN printed on them, as well as ACCESS ALL AREAS.

"Nooooooo way. No way. No absolute way did you get me these!" I stare down at them and them up at her and down at them again, trying to take it in.

"My cousin's a roadie for him. I've met him and Patty before."

"You are The. Best. Girlfriend. Ever." I state, standing up and winding my arms around her, giving her a big hug. She laughs up at me, before snuggling into my chest.

"I also have something else for you, but you'll see that at the ski lodge." She tells me, giggling to herself.

"What is it?" I ask her, giving her my puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeeease tell me!"

"No." She states, stubbornly.

"Aww, please?"

"Give me my present and I may reconsider." She tells me, closing her eyes and giving me a little smug smile, going back to sit on the floor by the Christmas tree.

"You should be part of the mafia, know that?" I laugh, and hand her my present for her, in it's nice box with the red paper and black and cream ribbon. Took me ages to wrap it like that.

Outside, kids are running around and showing each other their new presents as my girl opens hers.

It's a bottle of expensive perfume and a sweet little charm bracelet with a little "C" to match her necklace, and coincidentally, an envelope.

"You got me tickets to something too?" She giggles, pulling out the two red pieces of paper.

"OH MY LORD NO WAY PEETA YOU ABSOLUTE BODY OF PERFECTION!" She yells once she sees the name and the little backstage pass writing.

Taylor Swift, Red Tour, backstage pass. "How did you even get these?!"

"She's my brother's best friend; he's her hairstylist, remember? She's really nice."

"I might die."

"You do that."

"You definitely deserve your other present- well at least you get to SEE your other present now." She giggles suspiciously and mischievously, running upstairs quickly and returning with a black box, hot pink ribbon tied round it.

"Remember, this is for skiing, okay?"

"Got it, Commander Clove." I nod, giving her a salute.

"Enjoy." She smirks, giving me a wink.

I pull the lid off the box.

Oh dear lord.

Oh my fucking god.

I can't even.

"Cloooove." I whine, staring at the gifts that lie on hot pink crunchy tissue paper.

A pair of cream and candy red striped panties, with darker, apple red lace trim.

And a sort of nightie thing, which I'm sure would be VERY short on, probably reaching to only her-**nghhh**-panties, gauzy and see through, like a petticoat sort of a material, which is cream, that leads up to an attached bra only distinguishable by just the bit less see-through material. That bit is also cream, with a red silk bow in the middle, the sides and straps trimmed with red lace.

Fuck.

"Ohhh...My...God..." I breathe out shakily, my fingers twitching.

"For skiing, remember?" She winks, snatching the box back out of my hands and running up the stairs with it.

Two days, Peeta. Twoooo days.

* * *

The land rover Finnick mans swerves up and around a right angle turn on the winding road. We're past the gates of the hotel; we just need to drive for another fifteen-ish minutes till we're there. It's freezing up here, so we have the hot air on full blast, but me and Finnick have cheeky hot seats going on in the front; the other boys can't know that-there'd be mutiny.

Marvel sits by the window, moaning about how being in the back makes him feel ill, and how it should me be back here because I'm terrible at reading maps, and he's apparently the geography prodigy. Thresh is in the middle, minding his own business and NOT being a whiny child about where he sits- take note Marvel- next to Cato, who's also by the window. The girls are following behind in the other car. About an hour ago the snow began to get heavier set and easier to come by, and by now the sky is dipping into a coral streaked apricot blur.

"So, she literally showed you the box then ran off?" Finnick laughs. "Man, that is cold. That is something Jess would do."

"What were they like, Peeta?" Marvel coos. I told them the story of my insane sort-of-Christmas present.

I explain and Marvel and Finnick's eyes widen and Finn whistles lowly out of the corner of his mouth.

"That sounds hoooot, man." Marvel tells me, like I didn't already know.

"At least you know you're gonna get lucky soon. Hey! I know! We're going to get there by five now. If I get Jess to take Clove and Katniss out to the spa or some shizz, you can do something really romantic. I mean, a fireplace in the bedroom and the bed scattered with rose petals, with floor to ceiling glass windows displaying STUNNING views of snow covered mountains and stars in the sky? What turns girls on more? I can get you some champagne, if you want." Finnick rambles on.

"Finn, that's a brilliant idea, but not the champagne-too much. We're not on our honeymoon." I nudge him, laughing. "But thanks man."

"No probs, dude." He chuckles, pulling the gear stick, before trying to turn up the heating even more.

"So you say there was a bow in the middle? Like a big one?" Marvel asks, still getting over the fact my girlfriend has bought lingerie. I nod. "Oh, man, girls are SUCH a tease."

"Don't I know it!" Cato pipes up from the backseat, glaring at Thresh, who gives him a beaming, sarcastic smile.

They told us a week ago- we're all really happy for them. I'm glad to know Cato has found someone to take care of him.

"So, who's the girl of your relationship?" Pipes up Marvel, and there's a ceremonious nodding of the heads as the boys get ogled.

"Thresh." Cato says definitively.

"Yeah, it's me. I admit, I'm a bit of a tease. It's fun to see his reactions." Thresh revealed, giving Cato a wink.

"So, Cato. You got lucky yet?" I ask, bluntly and interestedly. Marvel and Finnick stare at him, intently waiting on his reply.

Cato bursts out laughing.

"What?" I ask, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"It's just Clove said, and I quote- The boys won't care, they'll just want to know if you got lucky."

"That Clove, she's a madam and a half." Marvel chuckles, pretending, before setting his mouth in a straight line. "So have you?" He asks, going straight back into the topic, not letting Cato get away with it.

"Well, yeah, obviously. We've been together for three months. Have you not boned Katniss?" Marvel blushes.

"Well, yeah." He runs one hand over the other. "It was immense."

"So I'm the only virgin in this car?" I splutter.

"Guess so, buddy."

"Not for long."

* * *

We pull up in the sweeping driveway towards Finn's cabin. It's a bit big to be described as a cabin, really, full of sweeping beams and one way glass, so we can't see inside. Massive, weighty loads of snow cover every surface, apart from the icy pavement we slip and slide along, clutching each other until Finnick crashes up and over the steps and slides over the wooden planks to the front door, where he faceplants against the oak. Moaning and rubbing his bruised features, he jams his key in the frozen lock.

"Welcome to paradise." He smiles, opening the door for us. We all trudge in, us girls giggling and the boys laughing, all of us dragging our suitcases behind us. We all fall silent when we get inside

"Hol-y shit." Jess manages to say.

We really are faced with paradise. Wall to wall cream carpets, with honey coloured wood furniture, and a flat screen tv. Everything is tasteful and modern yet strangely traditional; it's all cream and red and warm. Our bedrooms are incredible-well, at least Thresh and Cato's is. Jess and Katniss pulled me aside, telling me how much we "NEED" to go to the spa, and to the shop, to see how amazing it will be, blah blah blah. I nod an okay, and allow myself to get dragged out the door onto the light wood porch. Glancing back, I see Finn give Jess a thumbs up to which she replies with a smile.

Weird.

* * *

"Right. Peeta, Jess text me; they're five minutes away. It's nine o'clock. Are you definitely ready? I can get Jess to stall some more if you aren't." Finnick directs, like an army sergeant.

"No, I'm good. Do I look okay?" I reply, mellow and calmer than Finn and the other boys are acting, but inside in pretty damn nervous.

"Spiffing, my good pal." Chimes in Marvel in a fake English accent. "No, really bro, you look fine."

"They're coming up the path. I wish you good luck." Says Cato, peering through the windows.

"Yeah, man, good luck, our thoughts be with you." Marvel adds.

"Good luck man. It'll be fine." Thresh smiles at me.

Finnick strides across the room and gives me a hug.

"I know this'll sound weird, but I love you man, and this is going to be a great night for you, I promise. Okay? Have a good time."

He jumps away just in time as the girls come through the door. Marvel flicks on the TV and settles down.

"Man, I'm pretty tired, and we have skiing tomorrow. I'm gonna head up to bed." I tell them, faking a yawn. (I was pretty pleased- it looked realistic and everything.) I smile at Clove warmly.

"I'm guessing I'll go too, I'm pretty beat." She laughs and says goodnight to everyone, before following me to our bedroom, in one of the doors leading off from the living room.

As soon as the door shuts behind us I'm kissing her, her back pressed against the wall as my arms find her waist and her fingers find my hair.

"You will not believe how long I've been waiting for that." I tell her, and she smiles. Glancing over my shoulder, her mouth widens as she sees my display. Red rose petals have been scattered on the bed, and the lights are off, the only illumination coming from the roaring fire in the grate and the candles dotted around the room. It's amazing, the room. A modern bed with a low lying headboard and soft sheets, perfection in furniture. But I won't get into details. I lead her over to the bed and sit her down, me following, taking her hand.

"I'm sorry about that night. I realised where it was going, and I wanted to make our first times special, and I didn't want to hurt you, or have you regretting it. But, I'm ready now, if you are. I understand if you aren't."

She states at me for a second, before giving me a small hug.

"Wait a second, I'll be right back." She tells me, dashing into the en suite where our suitcases are, leaving me sitting on the bed, a bit shocked, really.

Oh god, Peeta, you've messed this up, she's gonna hate you, nobody's gonna ever like you ag- the door's opening.

Holy sweet Jesus.

My Christmas present; she's wearing it. The panties, the top thingy-I was right, it was short- and a pair of sheer scarlet heels.

Well, fuck me.

She stands, backed by the fire which gives her a dangerous glow, looking sexy, smoky and dark. A real bombshell.

Then she ruins the effect by walking over here and tripping in her heels.

I laugh, but see she's pouting.

"What's wrong, babydoll?" I ask, staring up at her.

"I wanted to make it perfect, make me someone you'd want to be with, make myself perfect, and I ruined it. I ruin everything. I'm sorry Peeta." She hangs her head and looks like she's about to cry. I surprise her and let out a laugh, pulling her down and laying her on the sheets, positioning myself hovering over her, balancing on my elbows.

"Clove, I think you're beautiful and special and perfect without a pair of silly heels. Nothing could ruin this night for me. Now, let's get these off." I tell her, and slip her shoes off. She quickly gets up and slips her iPhone into a dock in the wall, presses play on a song named Crashed by Daughtry, before lying back down in our original position.

She smiles up at me, before slamming her lips to mine in a powerful, hungry kiss.

"Shirt. Off. Now." She commands, breaking apart for just a second.

"I could say the same." I growl, eyes clouded with lust and desire.

* * *

Back in the other room, the rest were just hanging out, relaxing round the fire and the tv. The television wasn't on; they had some light music playing, currently Noah & The Whale, and they didn't need any background noise. Currently, Cato and Marvel were being smashed in a game of Poker by Jess, who was currently triumphing with her incredible hands; they already owed her two bags of Reece's pieces and a sugar crusted pacifier lollipop. Katniss, Thresh and Finnick were draped across the various caramel colour sofas, alternating between watching the flickering fire and the flurry of flakes that were falling outside, or smiling at their various gambling lovers fondly.

Finnick Odair needed to pee.

Stretching out and standing up, he made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Jess had just won another round when Finnick poked his curly little head around the door. She turned to face him, her attention caught, as did the rest.

"Guys," he hiss-whispered, eyes wide and mischievous. "Come hear this! Be quiet." He issued the warning.

They all immediately scampered over to the moroccan-tiled bathroom, looking at Finnick curiously as he shut the door.

"Put your ear to the wall." He instructed, which they did.

They then heard the moans Finnick had wanted them to hear.

"_NGHHH_, Cl-oooooove." Peeta growled, making Jess have to struggle to contain her awkward giggles.

"F-f-u-u!" Clove let out, her voice embroiled with pleasure so deep she couldn't finish the sentence. "_Peeeeeeta_, f-f-f-uuuuuhhhh." She screamed.

"I think the word you're looking for is fuck, Clove." Cato muttered.

"Are we terrible people for listening to this?" Katniss questioned, hand fluttering on her collarbone.

"Yes." Finnick confirmed, but no-one made a move to leave.

"Oh god, Clove! _FUCKKKKKK_!"

"Oh fuck, PEEETA, RIGHT THERE, HARDER, RIGHT THERE!" She shrieked, moaning.

"Mmm, like that?" Peeta growled, dark with desire. A song kept playing and playing in the background; Finnick had heard it before, just couldn't place it.

"God, they're going at it hard." Thresh murmured. "I don't know how he managed to last so long."

"FUCK YES, oh GOD, **PEEEEEEEEETA**!" She yelled, her voice reaching her crescendo, loud as possible.

"She's loud." Marvel stated bluntly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the other boys.

"Shhh, I can't hear!" Jess complained.

"We're going to hell." Katniss laughed.

"FUUUUUUCK CLOVE, I'm sooooo _closeeeee_." Peeta's voice ended in a whisper, almost hissing with lust.

"Well, Peeta's not exactly short with vocals is he?" Finnick asked rhetorically.

"FUCK, OH **GAAAAAAA**!" He yelled, so caught up in the pleasure that he couldn't finish "god". "**CLOVE**!" He screamed finally, before all was silent.

"Well, this is going to be awkward tomorrow." Jess told them, a small smirk on her foxy features. The statement was met with a chorus of approval.

* * *

**Hate me if you want, needed to be done ;)**

**Replies, kiddos!**

**HelloKitty2000-Thank you got another fabulous review! Yeah, I thought he'd be quite awkward, and I loved writing when Jess punched Glimmer. I was like TAKE THAT BITCH! I hope you like this chapter :)**

**Guest-HEY DER IMOGEN MATE!**

**Greenator55- Thank you, it always makes my day when new people review! I don't mean to make spelling mistakes, most of them are autocorrects, I write on my phone :)**

**UnseenWonders-OI BLEURGH, what's your problem?**

**SnowGemsxo-Hey! So you liked them? I thought I should include some of that stuff, because they're teenagers, and that's what teens are like! So great to hear from you again! And I hate when teachers do that -.-**

**So 85 reviews guys? Thanks**!


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